Shahrastini
by Jo-9tails
Summary: A king was betrayed by the woman he loved,so he makes a terrible resolution:he will take a bride for one night only,& who he will murder come morning.Nothing can change his course,till one brave man steps forward.Duo,the Storyteller's Son.Eventual 1x2,3x4
1. Prologue

Jan. 31, 2006; 11:15 a.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. (meaning I'm too lazy to write one, but you didn't need to know that) Unbeta'ed.

**Shahrastini**

By Ninetails

Prologue

_A story is alive, as you and I are._

_It is rounded by muscle and sinew. Surging with blood. Layered with skin, both rough and smooth. At its core lies soft marrow of hard, white bone. A story beats with the heart of every person who has ever strained ears to listen. On the breath of the storyteller, it soars. Until its images and deeds become so real you can see them in the air, shimmering like oases on the horizon._

_A story can fly like a bee, so straight and swift you catch only the hum of its passing. Or move so slowly it seems motionless, curled upon itself like a snake in the sun. It can vanish like smoke before the wind. Linger like perfume in the nose. Change with every telling, yet always remain the same._

_I am a storyteller, like my mother before me, and her father before her. These things I know._

_Yet, in spite of all this, I have told no story for almost more years than I care to remember. Perhaps that is why I have the need to tell one now._

_Not just any story. My story. A story told hundreds, maybe thousands of times. Of a girl who saved her life and her king's by telling a tale of a thousand and one. _

_You sit up a little straighter in your chair. "But wait!" I hear you cry. "I have no need to hear, to read, this story. I have heard it many times before."_

_And this may be true, I must admit. For my story is not a new one. It is old, even as I am now old._

_Though you cannot see me (not quite yet, for you have not yet truly decided to enter the life of this story), I smile. I take no offense at your objection. I can be patient, although I cannot say that this is easy for me to be._

_I watch, as your hand hovers in midair above the page. Will you go forward, or back? Turn the page, or close the cover?_

_There is a pause._

_Then from across the space that separates us, I see the change come over you. Your hand, so still and steady just a moment ago, now trembles in a slight movement toward the next page…_

_I smile again, for I know that you are mine now._

_Or, to be more precise, you are the story's._

_For I recognize the thing that has happened: You have felt the tantalizing brush of surprise. And, close upon its heels, so swift nothing on earth could have prevented its coming, anticipation._

_This tale, which you thought so long asleep as to be incapable of offering anything new, has given a surprising stretch, reach out, and caught you in its arms. Even as your mind thought to refuse, your heart reached back, already surrendering to the story's ancient spell._

_Can you see me now? Not as I am, but as I was?_

_They named me Shahrazad, which I confess to be a little inaccurate. At seventeen years of age, straight and slim, with chestnut hair and amethyst eyes. My skin, the color of the pale dried camel skins that are my land's most prized trade. Others who have told my tale have said that I was beautiful beyond compare, even more beautiful than most women. But I can see with no eyes but my own, and so I am no judge._

_Are you ready to hear my greatest secret? The one that I have never spoken? You know only a small part of my story. What I am about to relate has never been told before._

_I see you set the pages down into your lap with a thunk. "But how can this be?" you ask. All have heard of the storyteller so gifted with words that she told tales for one thousand and one nights in a row. With her gift, her voice alone, she saved her own life and that of countless others. Through the years, this story has been handed down, with never a hint at anything left out, or anything changed. How, then, can what I claim be true? How can there be anything more?_

_Listen now. Listen truly. Fall under my storyteller's spell. Did I not say that a story could change in the telling yet remain the same in its innermost soul?_

_Did you truly believe that what you had been told was all there was to know? That such was the only truth?_

_Did you ever stop to wonder how the spirit of a man, once a wise and benevolent king, could so lose its way as to plan to make a maiden a bride at night and take her life the very next morning? Did you ever wonder how such a spirit, gone so far astray, could find its way into the light once more, not with the help of a maiden, but with the help of one such as I? _

_Was it truly done with words alone?_

_Or could it be that there was something more?_

_Something kept hidden. Held back, untold. A story within a story. Not just the trunk and limbs, which have been told countless times, but something new. Something only I can tell you._

_Forget all that you think you know about me. Remember that what you have heard was always told by others. You have never heard me tell my own tale before. No one has, for I have never told. I will tell it to you now._

_Listen to my name as I send it across the years. Do you not hear its power? The way both syllables are hard and soft all at once, even as I was? They illuminate and darken. Reveal and conceal. The name of a man concealed by the countless stories told of him._

_Whisper it now as my story begins._

… Duo.

TBC

**Author's Notes:**

Plot ain't mine, as usual. It's taken from a book I had once, "The Storyteller's Daughter," WHICH ISN'T MINE. I'll give credit to the author once I search for who she is. Heh. Work with this story will be slow. I really have no time to work on a multichapter. College life sucks. Gah. And if ever someone decides to leave reviews, I won't be able to reply like I used to. I think. banned it, ne? I have a sneaking suspicion that I am one of the causes of this (just look at the replies to reviews in my other fics… and no, I'm not actually telling you to read the fics). Ok, 'nuff said.


	2. Chapter 1

Dec. 23, 2005; 9:05 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. As well as standard pleading: please don't sue me!

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 1: How the Story Begins (Duo's POV)

Once, in days long past even the graybeards among you remember them only in stories, there lived a king who had two sons. Their names were Treize and Heero.

This king, as most ancient stories go, was rumored far and wide to be a very wise man. Where other rulers raised their sons in jealousy and anger, keeping themselves strong by causing those around them to be weak, this king strengthened himself by making those around him strong. He raised his sons in harmony and love, despite the fact that they came from different mothers. And so, at his passing, his kingdom reaped not the whirlwind, but a great reward. For the princes, though of different mothers, did not quarrel over their father's earthly goods. Instead, Treize, the eldest, said to his brother, Heero, "Hear my words, my brother. Younger than I and half of my blood, I have witnessed you grow into the fine man you are today. Though I am oldest and could, by law, rule all, instead I will make a different choice. Hear now what I propose:

"The kingdom of our father is a vast one. Let us then divide it between us, each attending to his domains and never making war upon the other. In this way, our people will know peace and all will prosper."

Heero gazed upon the blue eyes that almost mirrored his own, silently pondering on his brother's surprising words. "My brother, truly you are our father's worthy successor for, even in your greatness, you seek to do me honor. I have seen how much you love our father and the people of his kingdom, and truly, you are a worthy king to them. I will therefore be satisfied with the lands you grant me and never seek to overthrow you."

Then Treize divided the kingdom, keeping for himself the vast lands of India and Indochina. But to his brother he gave the city of Samarkand, the trade routes and the lands thereof – all jewels of great value.

And so the brothers embraced each other and parted.

But all this is yet to come, for I have let the story run on ahead of itself.

Now at his father's death, Treize inherited not only the king's lands. He also inherited his court and palace. He inherited courtiers and advisors. Chief among them, most high and highly prized, was his vizier. A fitting title for "the one who bears burdens."

What burdens this vizier was to bear in the service of his young king shall soon be told.

The vizier was older than his new master, being more of Treize's father's age, and he had two sons. Though they were far apart in years, they were close in love. The younger was a child of ten as this tale opens. His name was Quatre. The elder was a young man of seventeen. He was called Duo.

Quatre's mother had been a great lady at court. But Duo's mother had come from afar. Ah! Many were the tales told about her: Helena the Storyteller.

As a young man, the vizier had led forces of Treize's father to a great victory, deep in the heart of one of his lands. When he returned home, he brought with him a bride, daughter of a people both fierce and proud. They lived not in cities and settlements as others did, but traveled always from place to place, as if their true home in the world had yet to be found. They obeyed the laws of all the lands they passed through, yet made alliances with none.

Greatly honored among the Lost Ones were the Storytellers – the tellers of stories or fortunes. It was whispered that the vizier's young wife was greater than all the Storytellers who had come before her, be it man or woman. So great was her gift that her people wept and cast themselves upon the ground when they understood that she meant to part from them. For, once gone, she would become a stranger and could never return - so their customs said. And it had been prophesied at Helena's birth that in her time, she would come to bear the greatest Storyteller of them all.

Though she loved the vizier, when the time for parting with her people came, Helena also wept. For many days and nights the tears fell from her eyes without ceasing, across all the miles to her new country. Only when the out runners declared that the towers of the king's palace were actually in view did Helena dry her eyes. For the sake of a story she herself would never tell, she knew that she must put away her sorrow.

And so it was that Helena the Storyteller came to her new home. She was possessed of an intellect as sharp as the blade of a newly honed knife, and a beauty so terrible only a few could bear to look upon it. But Helena herself had never had to pass the test of gazing upon her own features. For she was as it was whispered all the truly great Storytellers are:

Helena the Storyteller was blind.

The vizier and Helena lived quietly in their quarters in the king's great palace. In the second year of their marriage, Helena presented the vizier with a child. A son. They gave to him the name of Duo, a fitting name for one whose parents come from truly different worlds.

Though Duo grew to young adulthood in the palace, he kept himself far from the pomp and circumstance of court functions, or the brutal sport the young palace courtiers engaged themselves in. His father, the vizier, sat at the king's right hand. He was loved and trusted. But, even as the years went by and Duo's mother showed herself to be true and virtuous, few of the people she had come to live among gave their love to Helena the Storyteller. She had not been born in that place, and the fear of such a one proved to be too strong.

And so even as the parents in the kingdom withheld their love and trust from the mother, so did they teach their children to do the same to her child. And though he never saw them nor lived amongst them, Duo grew up like the people of his mother. Searching yet never finding his true place in the world. And he grew up lonely.

The palace of the king was vast and lovely, and in it there flowed many beautiful fountains. One in particular, the young Duo loved. It was not large, rather a small pool shaded by a pomegranate tree and tucked into a corner of a secluded garden. In it swam many beautiful golden fish. It was tiled with stone of such a piercing blue that looking down into the water was exactly the same as looking up into the sky.

This quiet corner of the palace was Duo's favorite place – the closest he had ever come to finding where he belonged. And so it happened that one day at the beginning of his eighth year, his happiness at being in the palace he loved best made Duo set aside his usual caution, and he was taken by surprise.

A group of young courtiers' children set upon him, lifted him up, and threw him into the pool with such force that the branches of the pomegranate tree shook above him. Duo struck his head upon the stones that lined the pool and his red blood flowed out into the water.

When the courtiers' children saw what they had done, they became afraid. How terrible, they feared, would be the revenge of Helena the Storyteller! And so they fled, leaving Duo sitting in a pool of bloody water sobbing as though his heart would break. And thus his mother found him.

"Why do they treat me so?" Duo cried when he saw his mother. "I do nothing to them. Nothing!"

Though she thought perhaps her own heart would break when she heard the pain and despair in her son's voice, Helena the Storyteller answered calmly, "Nothing is all you need do, Duo, my son. Being yourself is enough. For you are not the same as they are, and they can neither forgive nor forget it. Come now, dry your eyes and get out of the water."

But Duo was hurt and angry, and he felt rebellious. He stayed right where he was. "But I want to be the same!" he cried. "Why must I be different?" He splashed the water with an angry fist. "I won't get out until you tell me."

Before Duo knew what his mother intended, Helena the Storyteller strode to the fountain, lifted her skirts, and waded into the water. She tore one of her sleeves and made a bandage to bind Duo's bleeding head. How Helena knew to do this when she could not see the injury, Duo did not know.

"Get up, go into our apartments, and put on dry clothing," Helena commanded her son. "Then go to my chest and bring me the length of cloth you will find inside."

Though his spirit still felt bruised, Duo did as his mother commanded, for he understood that this was the only way Helena would give him an answer – with a story.

While Duo changed into dry robes, Helena the Storyteller stood in the water, her blind eyes cast downward. As if she could see the pool Duo loved so well, now bloody and sullied. And from her eyes there fell two tears, one each, from the left eye and the right. As Helena's tears struck the water, the pool was cleansed, and the water ran clear once more.

When Duo returned, he found his mother sitting beside the fountain, her skirts already dry. At the sound of her son's footsteps, Helena held out a hand.

"What have you brought me?" she inquired.

Duo reached out and placed a length of cloth into his mother's hand. It was silk as fine and sheer as gossamer, the same color blue as the stones that lined the fountain. Duo watched as Helena brushed her fingers across the surface of the cloth, and he felt the hair rise on his arms.

For he knew that woven into the cloth so finely that only the hands of the storyteller could discover it, there was a tale waiting to be told. And he knew that this was the true storyteller's art. Not the speaking aloud, for that was something anyone might do, but the deciphering of the tale woven into the cloth. A secret known only to the Storytellers.

"Ah!" Helena said when she was finished. "You have chosen well, my little one."

Duo made a sound that might have been a laugh and plopped down beside his mother on the edge of the fountain.

"It was hardly a choice," he said. "That was the only piece of cloth in the whole trunk."

"That's as it should be," Helena replied with a smile, "For it means that this story is yours. Will you hear it?"

"I will," Duo said.

"Then I will give you its name," said his mother. "It is called…"

TBC

A/N:

I have NO idea what the story should be called! This is based on one of my favorite books, "The Storyteller's Daughter," but with my own twist. Gah. I'm too lazy to continue, but tell me what you think. Ok, that's over. Merry Christmas! (in advance, I guess…) Ja.

And yes, I know that I'm weird, writing the chapter 1st before the prologue. Eheh. And yes, I decided to name this "Shahrastini." I'm gonna include historical facts somewhere in the AN of a later chapter.

Thanks so much, camillian, for the review. Couldnt really reply, since you don't have an account (and this site banned replying to reviews so...) Gah. Really, thanks SO much! (huggles you)

Lastly, I thank Pandora-chan for editing (beta-ing?) this chappie. Thanks SO much, and for the critiques (?) as well. (huggles)


	3. Chapter 2

01/30/06; 9:15 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. Still unbeta'ed. Gah. Warning: angst abounds here, as well as a death. No major character death though... yet.

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 2: _The Tale of the Boy Who Wished to Be What He Was Not _

"Once," Helena the Storyteller murmured as her fingers whispered across the silk, "there lived a boy who was very unhappy, for it seemed to him that no one loved him for what he was.

"Though he was the child of a king – a prince – he was not prized. He was last among the sons of the ruler, a favorite target of ridicule among his brothers. For in a land that valued beauty above all other attributes, he was not at all pleasing to the eye. In a land where only the fiercest can rule, he was gentle to all. And so it seemed to him that although others looked upon him all day, they never saw his worth. Instead, they saw only their own disappointment.

"Yet there was one place in the palace of his father where the boy was happy. That was a small pool set beneath a pomegranate tree in the corner of a secluded garden."

At this, Duo stirred, a cooling wind so rare in their parts blew, but the voice of Helena the Storyteller never faltered.

"He would sit beside it whenever he was through with his lessons for the day, watching the goldfish glide along the bottom. One day, when he was feeling particularly sad, the boy spoke his thoughts aloud:

'You, my golden friends, are so carefree in your little pond, bringing pleasure to those who look upon you. How I wish that I were one of you! For then I would have a place in the world, and I would be admired, for all who look upon you exclaim over your loveliness.'

"Now, the prince was young, and so he did not know that it is not always wise to speak your innermost thoughts aloud. For you never know who might be listening. On this day, just as the prince was lamenting his sad fate, a _djinn _was passing by. No sooner did he hear the boy's words than he swooped down and appeared to him in the garden.

"At the sight of a _djinn _suddenly materializing out of thin air, the prince was understandably alarmed. He leaped to his feet, reaching out for the dagger that was not hanging from his waist. But the _djinn _spoke, and at his words, the prince halted his frantic movement.

"'Do not fear me, prince,' said the _djinn_. 'For, I have the power to grant the first wish of your heart.'

"'Tell me what it is then,' answered the prince. For he knew that _djinn _did not always deal fairly with mortals. He slowly lowered his hand, clutching nothing but air, and wondered whether to regret leaving his dagger in his room.

"'That is simple,' the _djinn _replied. 'You wish to be a goldfish in that pool of water – a thing which is easily done. But because you are a prince, I will do more. The first will transform you as you desire.'

"The heart of the prince had begun to beat so hard he feared his chest would split wide open before he could speak.

"'And the second?'

"'Will return you to your true form once more. You have only to say the word and all shall be as I have spoken.'

"'What is the word?' asked the prince.

"The _djinn _pronounced a word of great magic. The prince repeated it, savoring the way the strange syllables rolled across his tongue. In the next instant his voice had ceased, for he was a boy no longer, but a beautiful goldfish swimming in the water of the pool.

"The _djinn_ stared down at him for a moment. "Faithful prince, I cannot leave you yet,' he murmured. 'For I would see how this wish spins out.' So he made himself invisible and hid himself in the branches of the pomegranate tree. Though a _djinn _is many things, he is curious, above all else.

"Several days went by. No one seemed to notice that the prince was missing, save his tutors who chalked it up to the prince's tendency to wander in the nearby woods. The _djinn _kept watch over the fish in the pool from the branches of the pomegranate tree. He thought that he had done his work well, for the prince was the loveliest color gold of all.

"On the fourth day following the prince's transformation, the _djinn's _vigilance had its reward. As he watched, invisible, from the branches of the tree, two courtiers appeared at opposite ends of the secluded garden. Ah! When they saw each other, great were their exclamations of pleasure and false surprise!

"One, who was no less than a prince – the king's designated heir – gestured the other over to the pool. He seated himself at the water's edge, trailing fingers in the water. Thinking he might have food, the goldfish gathered around. But the young prince had no thought to feed anything other than his own ambition.

"'All is in readiness?' he inquired, being careful to keep his voice low.

"His companion nodded. 'All is as you have commanded, Highness,' he replied. 'Tomorrow, when you walk here in the early morning with the king, I will be hidden in the branches of this tree, which stretches out above the pool. At your signal, I will fall upon him and hold his head beneath the water until he moves no more.'

"'Then I will be king,' the young prince said. 'And you shall have your reward.'

"And so the conspirators embraced each other and departed.

"Now, when the youngest prince heard this plan, he was greatly alarmed. For, though the _djinn's _magic word had transformed his outward shape to that of a fish, he was still a boy in his heart and mind. A young boy who loved his father. The prince swam round and round the pool, trying to think of a way to warn him.

"Should he speak the magic word now? If he did, he would be himself again. He could go to his father at once. But what if the king refused to see him? For the bitter truth was that the king did not often have time for his youngest son. Of all those who saw the prince for only what he was not, his father was chief among them. Had his father even noticed he was gone?

"No, the prince thought. He would wait until the morrow. The moment before the conspirators prepared to strike, he would speak the magic word, be restored to his true form, and warn his father. The king would have no choice but to believe him then. He would prove his worth at last, and his father would see how much he loved his youngest son.

"And so the prince passed a troubled night and waited for the morning.

"Early the next day, just at dawn, there came a rustle of garments as the first conspirator crept into the garden. He climbed the branches of the pomegranate tree, hiding himself among the leaves. The young prince bided his time.

"Soon he heard the murmur of low voices as his father and his older brother entered the garden. Still, the youngest prince did nothing. He waited as his father approached the pond, gazing down into its still water.

'_Now_! the prince thought. He tried to speak the magic word that would bring about the transformation. To his horror, he discovered he could not, for he had no tongue to speak the word! Goldfish do not speak as young boys do. And the prince was just a goldfish, swimming in a pond.

"Desperate now, he sought a way, any way, to save his father. In a frenzy, he swam around the pool.

"'Mercy!' exclaimed the king. 'What ails the fish this morning?' In the next instant he drew back in alarm. For he had seen a face not his own, nor the prince's at his side, but a face from above reflected in the water. It could only be that someone was hiding in the pomegranate tree. Someone who wished to do him harm.

'When the oldest prince saw the king draw back, he betrayed his true weak nature. He panicked in fear lest all should be lost. And so he also revealed his treachery. From his sash, he drew forth his knife.

"'Traitor!' cried the king as the young man set upon him. The prince was young and strong, but he proved no match for the fury of his father. They fought bitterly, and the king's robe was torn. But at last the king knocked the knife from his son's hand and swept his feet from under him, sending him splashing in the water. The prince struck his head upon the stones that lined the pool. His head slipped beneath the water and did not rise.

"But the king's danger had not passed. Seeing the oldest prince dispatched, the prince's fellow conspirator decided to risk all. With a great cry, he sprang from the tree, his knife pointed at the king's unprotected back. But before he could strike home, the fish that had first attracted the king's attention leaped from the water. Up, up, it sailed, in a perfect arc of gold. The conspirator's knife pierced it clean through.

"The would-be assassin fell into the pond as had the prince before him, and there met the fate he had planned for another as the king held his head beneath the water until he moved no more. But the fish fell to the stones of the garden, mortally wounded, and, as it did, the youngest prince was returned to his true form.

"The sight of his youngest son, his heart's blood seeping out onto the cobblestones, gave the king a greater shock than any assassin's knife.

"'My son! What magic is this?' he cried.

"But by then, the youngest prince was beyond speech - he had given up his life. And so it was the djinn who answered for the prince. Making himself visible, he appeared before the king and replied, "O King, it is mine. I heard your son, grieving by the side of this pool, and offered him the first wish of his heart. He thought his wish was to be a goldfish in this pool. But what the heart of your son truly wished above all else was that he might have value in your eyes. He has paid for this wish in the manner you see.

"'And so tell me, O King. What value do you place upon your youngest son now?'

"So speaking, the _djinn _bowed before the king and departed.

"Great was the king's sorrow when he heard the djinn's words. For too late he recognized both his sons' true value. His youngest had loved him so much he had given up his life for him, while eldest thought only of his possessions and would have taken his life from him.

"The king had the youngest prince's body laid to rest with all the pomp and ceremony he could command, and declared an entire year of mourning. In the prince's honor, he erected a statue in the pool he had loved so well.

"A fish, its eyes the blue of lapis lazuli. Each and every scale a piece of gold leaf. And from its mouth poured water as clear and sparkling as diamonds. Such was the youngest prince's value, for such had been the strength and purity of his love."

-----------------------

Helena's fingers stopped their movement among the silk. "Well, Duo," she said. "What do you make of this story?"

Duo stayed silent. "Never trust the word of a _djinn_?" he asked after a moment.

Helena chuckled. "Sound advice," she replied. "Your mind is quick, as always. And your heart? What does it say?"

Duo sighed and put his head upon his mother's shoulder. "That I should know my own value and never seek to be what I am not."

The storyteller reached to stroke his son's hair, stray wisps escaping from the leather tie holding it in a braid. "Well spoken," she said softly. "Your heart is a strong one, my Duo. With a heart such as yours, many wishes are granted, even those that seem impossible. Remember well what I have spoken."

"I will, Mother," promised Duo. He felt his mother's fingers whisper along his hair, freeing it from the tie and allowing the warm breeze to caress between the chestnut locks. Could Helena read him the way she read the cloth? Duo wondered. He lifted up his head and felt his mother's touch drop away.

"I will always be different, won't I?"

"You will always be different," Helena replied.

"And they will never like me."

"I cannot say what another will or will not do. No one can," answered the storyteller.

Abruptly Duo got to his feet, his expression set. "Then I will learn to live without them."

Helena tipped her face up, as if she could really see her son's determined face as it stood over her.

"Do you think that such a thing is possible?"

Duo snorted and turned away. "I don't know yet. When I do, I'll tell you."

At Duo's sharp reply, Helena made a _tsk_ing sound with the tip of her tongue. She got to her feet in her turn, and the piece of silk she had been holding fell from her lap and floated down into the water. It settled on the surface for no more than a moment.

But in that moment, those with eyes to truly see would have beheld an image they had not noticed before. A fish, outlined in intricate stitches of shimmering gold. Then the silk sank beneath the surface of the water like sugar melting into coffee, and this fish became as any other fish in any other pond.

"I am not so sure I like your story, Helena," Duo informed her as he turned to take his mother by the arm. "That _djinn_ tricked the prince in more ways than one. He only got two wishes. Everyone knows you always get three."

"O, bah!" Helena exclaimed. "I waste my talent on you. Such things happen only in fairy stories. Have I not always said so?"

Duo was laughing as they left the garden.

---------------------

For many moments after their departure, the garden stayed still and silent. Then, there came an agitation high in the pomegranate tree, as if its branches had caught a sudden wind and held it. A face appeared amid the leaves. A youth several years older than Duo shimmied down the trunk and dropped to the ground. Without hesitation, he moved to the pool, and caring nothing for his fine robes, he thrust his arms into the water, all the way to the bottom.

Although he searched until he was wet from head to foot, he could find no trace of the cloth the storyteller had left behind. Finally he simply sat beside the pool, staring down at the fish moving lazily in the water and tried to count them.

This youth's name was Heero.

TBC

Author's Notes:

Review please? And be nice. I'd like to know if people are still reading this or are just accidentally clicking the link or something. Gah. Or maybe I'm just wasting time here...

**camillian**, you'll start having the answers in the next chappie. **shadow fat**, ARIGATOU! (huggles you)

Err, I hope I don't get booted our for those. I couldn't really reply since they don't have an ff account so...


	4. Chapter 3

Feb. 4, 2006; 10:05 p.m.

Disclaimer: Story ain't mine, characters ain't mine. Though I wish they are. Oh, and a few warnings: OOCness, het (which will be remedied, people), gore, deaths, and angst all around. Feel free to click the 'back' button. Ja!

Advanced Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 3: Sorrow

Not long after what I have just related, a great sorrow came to Duo and his father. Helena the Storyteller fell sick of a fever that would not abate. No healer's potion would make the fever fall. For many days she lay upon her sickbed never moving, never speaking, with her blind eyes closed. Then, one day, she summoned all her strength, opened her eyes for one last time, and called her son to her bedside.

Duo came at his mother's bidding. He sat beside her for many hours. In those hours Helena told her son many things, and Duo came to understand much that had been painful and troubling. But what passed between them, what Helena spoke and what Duo answered, Duo would keep to himself for many years to come.

Toward evening, Helena closed her eyes once more. At this, Duo left her chamber, carrying in his arms the ebony chest that had been the only possession his mother had brought with her when she married his father. No sooner had Duo reached his own chambers and placed the chest beneath the window than Helena the Storyteller took one long breath and released it slowly. And with that, she died.

The moment his mother breathed her last, Duo collapsed upon the floor. For many days he lay as Helena had, without moving, without speaking, his eyes closed fast. The vizier was truly in despair, for it seemed to him that the fever that had claimed the wife he loved would now also steal away his son. He left his apartments only to attend the king. All other hours he'd spend at Duo's bedside.

But it was not until the vizier had almost given up hope that his long vigil at last had its reward. For Duo's limbs stirred, and thus he spoke, "Be comforted, my father. For I am still alive and will remain so."

But when he opened his eyes, the vizier learned a bitter thing. Though his son still lived, he had not escaped the fever unscathed. He was blind, like his mother before him. He silently grieved for the loss of the brilliance in those amethyst orbs. From that day forward, the vizier beheld a change in his son. Though his child's love for him remained constant, Duo now made good the boast he had made to Helena beside the fountain: He never left the vizier's quarters, never received visitors. Instead, he schooled himself in how to live alone.

Also from that time forward the tales about him began to spread. Throughout the land it was whispered that Duo was as his mother Helena before him and her father before her had been. A Storyteller. And those who had been with the vizier when he had first taken Helena to wife remembered the prophecy of her people: that Helena's child would come in time to be the greatest storyteller of all.

Duo and his father mourned Helena the Storyteller for a year and a day. At the end of this time, though their hearts were still heavy, they put aside their mourning robes. That very same day, as if he had only been waiting for the moment, the king, Treize's father, called his vizier before him.

"Old friend," he said. "You have served me well. Now, I desire to serve you well also. I will give to you a beautiful wife to ease your grief, for the time has come to put an end to sorrow."

Now, the vizier had no desire for a beautiful wife. He had no desire for another wife of any kind. For, save for the love he had for Duo, he had buried his heart with Helena the Storyteller. But the vizier had not served the king for so many years without learning his ways. He knew a command when he heard one. And so he bowed his head and said, "My lord, you do me too much honor."

"Nonsense," said the king. This too had been his solution once his first wife passed away, leaving him with a desolate feeling until his new wife. And he brought forth the bride that he had chosen. She was a great court lady, as beautiful as the morning. He married her to the vizier that very hour. And so, though he had set out alone for his audience with the king, when the vizier returned to his quarters he brought with him a bride.

Now, the vizier's wife was proud and ambitious. Never had she doubted her own value or her beauty, for all her life others had told her of it. She had not loved Helena the Storyteller, and she had no wish to love her son.

"Do you not think he would be happier with his mother's people?" she asked the vizier on their wedding night. "Why should he wish to stay here, among foreigners?"

The vizier looked his new wife up and down. That was all he needed to take her measure, though he was careful not to let her know it took so little time.

"He is my son also," he replied. "My people are his, and his place is at my side. I will hear no more talk of sending him away."

So the vizier's new wife had no choice but to bide her time. But she had a plan, and she was sure it was a sound one. She spoke no more to the vizier of sending his son away. Instead, thus she spoke to Duo: "Wait till I have given your father a son of true noble birth. I will have done something not even the great Helena could, and then we shall see how soon a storyteller's son is forgotten."

Though the words were designed to cut deep, Duo bowed low his head and made no reply. He was still a child and had fears as all children do, but he had no fear that he might lose his father's love.

At last the day came that the vizier's new wife had hoped for: the day she could announce she was with child. Though his stepmother did not intend it should be so, this news was pleasing to Duo. For it meant the vizier's wife spent all her time making arrangements for the birth and no longer had time to pick and poke at Duo. The months went by, and in due course, the time arrived for the coming of the child.

For many hours the vizier's wife labored to bring forth the pureblood son she so desired. When at last the child was born, and it truly was a son, her black heart would not contain her excitement, burst, and she died.

And so it was Duo's arms that first sheltered his brother from the world. And it was he who named him Quatre.

The vizier and his sons lived together quietly and joyfully. Though Quatre sometimes accompanied his father outside their quarters as he grew, for he truly was interested in the court happenings his father attended, Duo did not. He kept true to his vow and always stayed within his own quarters. Many hours did he spend with nothing for company save his own thoughts and the contents of Helena's ebony trunk.

As the years went by, the vizier and his sons grew in affection, as did the king and his two sons. The vizier's first act upon returning from his duties each day was to retire to Duo's rooms. There, he would tell him all that had befallen him during his day. In this way did Duo learn what transpired in his own land. His father also placed a special set of servants always at Duo's disposal. At any hour of the day or night, they might read to him any subject he desired. In this way did he learn about the wide world around him.

The cleverness of his mind and the depth of his splendor grew with each passing year. And, as these things grew, so did the curiousity of the king's courtiers. Their earlier animosity toward Duo's mother was all but forgotten, and they longed to see the storyteller's child. And the greatest longing of all lived in the breast of the young prince, Heero, though he kept it locked away inside himself and spoke of it to no one.

But Duo still kept to his own rooms and satisfied only his own curiousity.

When Duo was sixteen, another sorrow befell him and his father. For in that year, the old king died and the whole kingdom was plunged into mourning. At the end of this period, Treize ascended the throne. He divided the kingdom with his stepbrother, Heero, as has already been told you. The brothers embraced. Then Treize took his servants and his goods and departed for his capital city. And so a year went by.

Then, on no less important a day than the anniversary of their father's death, Heero conceived a great desire to see his older brother. He had missed him dearly for they had never been parted until now. Therefore, he sent for the vizier and commanded him to make the journey to the Capital and bring Treize to his side. He was newly wed, and the young bride didn't wish to travel too far.

The vizier made preparations without delay. He mustered a great caravan. On the day it was to depart, the streets of the city thronged with people, all loudly proclaiming their good wishes to the vizier, and their love for King Heero. The king himself stood on the palace steps to wish his vizier godspeed. The child Quatre stood near the young queen and her ladies, waving enthusiastically and giving his father one of his warmest smiles. But of Duo, there was no sign.

The vizier's caraven traveled for many days. When it reached the Capital, Treize gave the vizier a warm welcome. When he learned the reason for the journey, he was overjoyed at the prospect of being reunited with his younger brother. Because the city was full of traders, Treize bade the vizier make camp outside the city gates. Then he set about making preparations for his own departure. It took several days, but at last the evening came when he kissed his wife and infant daughter farewell, and she presented him with a skin of his favorite wine.

"Tonight as you sit in your tent, drink this, and think of me," she said. "It will ease the sorrow of this parting."

"My wife," Treize answered, "I would be honored to do as you desire."

Then Treize went to the caravan of the vizier. There, he would spend the night so that they could depart early the next day in the cool of the morning.

But late that night, as he sat in his tent, a cup of the wine she had given him in his hands, Treize's thoughts circled back to his young family. Much as he longed to see his younger brother again, Treize's heart was sad, for he loved his young daughter dearly, and didn't want to part with her so soon. His marriage to his wife was preordained, but he cared for her deeply as well. Deciding to hold his wife and daughter, Mariemaia, one last time, Treize set down the wine untouched, rose from his couch, and made his way back to the palace.

He first set out to his daughter's nursery, seeing her peacefully sleeping on her bassinet, her eyes crinkled up in the most adorable expression he has ever seen. Smiling gently, he kissed her satiny brow and murmured a prayer of safety.

When Treize reached his chambers, his wife was nowhere to be found! Great was his dismay and alarm! He had just opened his mouth to give a cry when he heard the barest thread of sound. This was enough for him to recognize his wife's voice. Wary now, for he feared that something was amiss, Treize followed the sound. Soon he found himself on a balcony overlooking his wife's favorite garden. In the light of the moon he saw her – wrapped in another man's arms.

"What a fool is this Treize," he heard his wife proclaim. "For I have played him false before he has even departed. But he will never know it, for the wine I gave him at our parting is poisoned."

When Treize heard these words his blood ran cold as newly melted snow. The love he felt for his wife fled from his heart, never to return.

At Treize's wife's words, her lover pulled back. "By the love of god!" he cried. "What have you done?"

But Treize's wife merely laughed, a sound like tinkling bells which, as though the feeling belonged to another life or another man, Treize remembered had once greatly charmed him.

"Calm yourself, my beloved," spoke his wife to her lover. "For the poison is as a thief in the night. So cunningly made that no one will be ablt to detect its coming and going. Now let us go in and repose ourselves, for we must be ready to rule in the Capital on the morrow."

So saying, Treize's wife and her lover prepared to go in. But before they could, a great rage swept Treize. How dare this woman deceive him! He drew his sword and leaped down into the garden. With the first stroke, he severed his wife's lover's head from his body. The second stroke deprived his wife of her head as well. Thus did he dispatch those who would have destroyed him.

After these deeds were done Treize summoned his most trusted councilors and made known to them all that had taken place. They pronounced his actions true and just. Though they begged him to remain within the city lest there be other conspirators, Treize would not delay his visit to his brother. For he discovered that he had no wish to remain in the Capital where everything he looked upon reminded him of the treachery of the woman he had loved.

But he could not leave his daughter behind. And so, as silently as he had left it, and carrying his daughter in his arms, Treize returned to the caravan and departed with the vizier the following morning without ever revealingto the vizier what had transpired. They traveled together for many miles until at last they reached Heero's palace. Ah! How joyful was the reunion of the brothers!

But it did not take long for Heero to realize that a profound melancholy had settled upon his brother, especially when gazing at his daughter. Though he would converse on any topic Heero wished, Treize neither laughed nor smiled. Nothing seemed to delight him, even at the sight of his daughter's first smile due to young Quatre's attentions. He decided to arrange a great hunt, a thing that Treize had always enjoyed above all others. But when the time came for the hunt to begin, Treize begged his brother to go without him. No words Heero could say altered his brother's decision to stay behind, and so at last, he obeyed Treize's wishes and set forth without him.

Now, since the night he had discovered his wife's treachery, Treize had not slept. For it was in the night that he had discovered there was more to his life than his eyes had been able to perceive, and so he feared to close them.

And so, on a night much like the one on which Treize had uncovered the plot aimed at his own heart, he discovered one aimed at his brother's. For Heero's wife, too, did conspire against him, to deprive him of his life ans set another in his place – both in his bed and on his throne.

Treize was filled with anger and overprotectiveness when he heard his brother's wife plotting against him, yet his heart was also filled with a strange surge of joy. For now he understood that it was not he, alone, who could be deceived. All men could be blinded by their faith in the women they loved. Thus reasoned Treize. And so he cast off his melancholy and waited for his brother's return. But he kept a close eye on Heero's wife and her lover.

Great was the rejoicing in the city at the king's safe return! And great was the change Heero beheld in his brother. Before, Treize's countenance had been dull and downcast. Now it shone so brightly it dazzled all who looked upon him. At dinner that evening as they sat at their ease, Heero said to his brother, "When I departed, you were as the ray of a lamp shielded by a hand – shuttered and shrouded. Now, no brightness can outshine you. What has brought about so great a transformation?"

At Heero's words, Treize's expression dimmed. "Ask me anything but that, my brother. For my answer will bring you a grief as great as that which I have lately known – a thing I cannot wish upon you. Therefore, let us find another topic."

But Heero was not to be dissuaded. Over and over he urged his brother to unburden his heart. And so at last, Treize related the treachery of his wife, and what he had done about it. Great was Heero's sympathy when he heard his brother's story.

"Now I understand your unhappiness," he said. "But this story does not explain why you have lately set aside your grief. Surely some other tale must follow."

"It does," Treize replied. "I know you have the ears to hear it, but have you the stomach and the heart, Heero?"

"As we are both the sons of our father, I do," Heero answered steadily, though the truth was that he was beginning to feel alarmed.

"Then hear me, and grieve also," said Treize. At that, he related what he had lately overheard concerning Heero's own wife. How she, too, had taken a lover, and how she plotted to kill her husband and set her paramour upon his throne.

When Heero heard this, he was filled with hurt and anger such as he had never known. But even in his extremity, he strove to be fair, for thus did he honor the teachings of his father.

"All that you have spoken I believe, for you have always been true, my brother," he told Treize. "Yet before I condemn these conspirators, I must hear their guilt from their own mouths."

"That is easily arranged," Treize replied. "I will convey you to the place where they meet. I have kept watch over them each night, for they have yet to reveal how they intend to do you harm. But I warn you, guard well your heart, Heero. There may be more pain to you in this than I have yet spoken."

"I thank you for your care," Heero replied in a peculiar deadpan tone. Then the brothers embraced and went to conceal themselves.

-----------------------

When Heero saw the place to which his brother conveyed him, he felt the first swift inklings of the pain which Treize had warned. For Heero himself had caused the courtyard to be built as proof of the great trust he had in his wife. None could walk there, save by her consent – not even Heero.

"Come," Heero murmured to his brother. "Let us conceal ourselves behind that vine."

And so they hid themselves behind a vine whose sweet white flowers made the night so heavy with their scent that the very air was as a perfumed cloud. Yet it seemed to Heero that the scent was bitter in his nostrils. Rank and putrid as dead meat. It was not long before the young queen and her lover arrived.

How they enjoyed each other; what words of affection they murmured, it is not seemly for me to tell. But I can say that when he beheld the man with whom his wife betrayed him, no warning Treize could have given would have prevented the pain that then pierced Heero's heart.

For here was one he had known since childhood, second only to his brother in Heero's affections. When at last the vizier joined Heero's father in the next life, this was the man whom Heero would have promoted above all other and placed at his right hand. There was no one he had trusted more, save for Treize.

How many minutes he stood stricken, his senses muddled with rage and pain, Heero never counted. But when at last he was himself again, he saw that, from a pocket stitched into the lining of her cloak, his wife had brought forth a dagger. Ancient symbols were etched upon its blade, and in its pommel was set a ruby red as heart's blood.

At the sight of it, so great a fury shook Heero that the vine around him trembled, and many of its flowers showered to the ground. Treize seized his brother by the arm to hold him still. But the queen and her lover never noticed, so intent were they upon themselves.

"See what I have brought you!" said the queen. "It is my husband's parting gift to his brother. At my urging, he will present it to him at a great banquet the evening before Treize departs. But I will drug Treize's food so that he sleeps like one dead. Then, in the night, we will steal this dagger and use it to slay Heero."

When he heard these words, the queen's lover rejoiced and took her into his arms.

"Your mind, as always, is most excellent in its cunning, my beloved. For by this device we will rid ourselves of both these brothers. When his blade is found in the king's body, all will believe that Treize has slain Heero. Then we will seize Treize and put him to death. And then there will be an end to waiting, for all that was theirs will become ours."

"Not in this lifetime," said Heero. And so saying, he stepped out from behind the vine. At the sight of the friend he had so betrayed, the queen's lover fell to his knees.

"My gracious lord, forgive me!" he cried. "See how I have been bewitched!" but now that I behold you here before me, I regain my senses once more. Tell me how I may serve you and it shall be done!"

"Be silent, you fool!" Heero's wife hissed. "Do not humble yourself so before him. Rather let us be bold and make an end of things here and now."

So saying, she raised the dagger high. But before she could strike, Treize stepped from his place of concealment and wrested the dagger from her, knocking her to the ground. Then with one swift stroke, Treize stabbed the queen's lover through his traitor's heart. His blood ran freely, forming a great pool around him. The queen knelt before her husband, her lover's blood staining her fine robes.

"Two choices lie before you," Heero said as he looked upon her blue eyes, and his voice was both stern and cold. "You may die by my hand, or by your own."

But the queen was defiant, even in defeat. "Give me the dagger," she commanded Treize. "I shall die by my hand and no other." At a nod from his brother, Treize placed the dagger in the queen's hand. Then she rose and faced Heero.

"My trials may end tonight, but yours are just beginning, husband. For now you know that even the most deadly of desires may be concealed in the heart you trust the most.

"Until you have found a mate whose heart you can see truly and therefore know it – one who can do the same with yours – you will find no peace by day or by night. Think well on these words, and remember me when I am gone."

So saying, she put and end to her life.

And thus began the trial of King Heero.

TBC

Author's Notes:

Thus the true story begins…

Yes, I made Treize and Heero too OOC here. GOMEN NASAI, people! I could not for the life of me catch his suaveness in words. Gah.

Three tries on who the brothers' wives are… ehehehehe…

Oh, and people, I am **begging **once again for reviews. This is the last chapter I'll be making untilI feel inspired again. And why am I so uninspired? My grandfather died last Thursday; my whole family was there in his final moments - except for me (since I'm in boarding school). Plus the fact that the reviews are too few.

Thanks to: camillian (I love your consistency! huggles)and nicko. Gomen, I can't PM you so I'm just gonna thank you here.

Oh, once again, advanced Happy Valentine's to all who care to celebrate it.


	5. Chapter 4

03/07/06

11:00 a.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. Still unbeta'ed. Gah.

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 4: _How Duo is Bold_

You shift a little in your chair, making yourself more comfortable. But what, you ask yourself, of Duo? Is this not supposed to be his story? Yet he has been absent for many pages now. Surely it is time to see him again.

Patience. Though you have not seen him, he has not been idle, nor has he been forgotten. He has merely been waiting for the proper place to re-enter the story. If you look carefully, you can even see it approaching.

For many days following the death of his queen and her lover, Heero behaved as always. So truly did he appear as he had always been that not even Treize, who above all knew him well, could discover that there was anything wrong. So the time of Treize's visit drew to an end, and he departed for Samarkand once more.

But, at his brother's leaving, a change came over Heero. He shut himself in the highest tower of the palace. For many days and nights, he did not come down. The sun rose and set, and rose and set again, and still Heero did not come down. Some nights, the lamps burned in the tower from dusk till dawn. On still others, bolts of lightning shot from sky to tower, and from tower to sky. And finally there came a series of nights where no lights shone forth. All within the tower was still as death. And those were the most terrible nights of all.

Great was the fear Heero's people has for him. It was whispered that he was dabbling in black magic, consulting strange and mystical signs. But when at last Heero came down from the tower, the people knew a new fear – and this fear was for themselves.

For the king was a stranger. Never had they looked upon his like before. The fact that in outward form and body he still resembled Heero meant nothing. For his heart has altered so irretrievably that none could recognize it. And in this way… it had been turned to stone.

For all the days and nights he remained in the tower, Heero had grappled with his wife's final words. They had been as a curse upon him, eating away like a cancer in his soul. For after so great and unexpected a betrayal, Heero could find no way to believe it was possible to find anyone who would see his heart truly and so come to know it, yet be unafraid to have their own heart seen and known.

For even though she had deceived him in all else, in this Heero perceived that his wife had spoken truly: Treachery could hide where it was least expected, even in the heart of the one he loved and trusted most.

And, so, at the last, Heero could find but one solution: He determined to set love and trust aside. In this way only could he be secure. And so he cast them from his heart. And as he did, he felt a pain so great that for many days and nights he lay senseless, as if dead, upon the tower floor. Then the day came when Heero awoke and found the pain had left him. Now he felt nothing at all. He had become as the stones beneath him: Hard. Unyielding. Cold.

So he rose from the floor, and descended from the tower, and set about ruling his kingdom once more.

And now, at last, we come to Duo.

Heero's first act upon descending from the tower was to send for the vizier. He stayed locked in chambers with him for many hours. At the end of this time, the vizier went forth and issued a proclamation in the king's name. Copies were made and set throughout the kingdom so that, even in the farthest reaches of his land, Heero's will might be known.

Now, I have told you that the vizier had served both Heero and Heero's father before him. The days of the vizier's youth were long over, yet never had he seemed old. His mind and body were still strong and vigorous. But as he stood upon the great steps of the palace, the vizier's hand shook as it held the king's proclamation. And those who hear him noted that his voice trembled as he read it aloud.

"Hear now the word of your king," the vizier proclaimed. "Dire plots have been laid against him, as you all know. He could forswear the company of another at his side forever. But as he is king, it is fitting that he have a consort whether man or woman. Learn, then, how your king will marry and yet shield himself from harm.

Once a month, at the full of the moon, will King Heero take one of his subjects as consort. But, lest his consort plot against him as the one before has, will be consort for one night only. On the morning following the wedding night, the royal consort will lose his or her life. This course will King Heero follow each month for as long as his reign lasts, save for this thing only:

"If one of his subjects will come forward to be in union with him of his or her own free will, he or she alone will know the direst consequence. All those who follow will be only close confined. They may keep their lives, but give up the outside world forever.

"All this shall be as I have proclaimed, for it is the will of King Heero."

With this, the vizier finished speaking, rolled up the proclamation bearing the great seal of the king, and vanished back inside the walls of the palace. No sooner had he done so that the love Heero's people bore him began to turn to hate. For who among them would wish such a fate upon one of their children? How cold they honor a king who exacted such a terrible price upon his subjects? The span of time it had taken the vizier to proclaim Heero's will: That was how long it took for his people to turn against him and his once well-ordered kingdom to begin a descent into chaos.

As the days to the full moon drew to a close and no one came forth, despair spread throughout the land like a thick and choking fog. People retreated inside their homes and barred their doors, even to those they loved the most. The camels of the great trade caravans became so cranky they refused to travel. Commerce and trade came to a halt – even in far away Samarkand. Treize sent an urgent message to his brother, urging him to bend his will to another course and set aside what now he must surely acknowledge as madness.

Hero climbed his tower, tore the message into a thousand pieces, and scattered it like leaves from the tower walls.

Finally, the night before the full moon arrived. On that night, Duo left his apartments, made his way to the rooms of his father, prostrated himself before him and said, "I would beg a boon of you, my father."

Glad for the distraction, the vizier turned from his balcony where he had been watching the moon on its journey through the sky. Never had he known his son to ask an unreasonable thing, although his hidden mischief oftentimes brought a few scandalized servants at his heels. The truth was, his eldest son rarely asked for anything at all. So he crossed the room without hesitation, raised him to his feet, and answered, "Whatever your heart desires that I may grant is yours, my Duo."

"Do you swear this will be so even before you hear it?" asked Duo.

Though he could not see it, the vizier cocked an eyebrow. Rarely was his eldest so forceful and secretive. It was young Quatre, still a child, who made demands.

"I do so swear," he told him.

"Ten, hear me, Father," said Duo. "First know that above all things else, I love and honor you. What I shall ask of you will be a difficult thing for you to bear. The boon I would have is that you present me to the king as his consort tomorrow. I ask this of my own free will, and you must grant it, for so you did swear."

Now, when the vizier heard his son's request, great was his horror! Never in his wildest dreams would he have believed that Duo would ask such a thing.

"Have you taken leave of your sense?" he exclaimed. "Think what you ask!"

"My father," Duo answered steadily, "I have. Do you think I would ask such a thing lightly?"

The vizier began to pace around the room, his long robes swirling about him. So great was his distress that all signs of age left him, and he was as a young man once more.

"I wish you had not asked it at all! Aside from your mother's death, my greatest pain has been that my own people did not embrace you and Helena in their hearts. Why sacrifice yourself to save them now?"

Duo tilted his head to one side, listening until he heard his father's pacing footsteps bring him once more near him. Then he reached out and seized the older man by the arm.

"Be still, Father," he said. "And be comforted. For this task, while it seems hopeless, is the one for which I was born."

All of a sudden the vizier's agitation left him. Once more, he felt old. Older than when he had seen Helena lowered into her grave. Older even than when he had read King Heero's proclamation to the people and seen fear replace love in their eyes.

"How can this be?" he asked. "I do not understand you, Duo."

Duo heard the pain and weariness in his father's voice. His heart was struck with sorrow, though he did not let it weaken his resolve. He slipped his hand into the crook of his arm.

"Come, Father," he said. "Guide me to a seat and then sit down beside me, and I will tell you of my last hours with Helena the Storyteller, whom we both loved."

So the vizier did as Duo asked, and Duo revealed to him all that Helena had told him before she died.

"Do you not remember, my father, that it was foretold at her own birth that Helena would come to bear the greatest of all the storytellers?"

"I remember," answered the vizier.

"I am Helena's only child," Duo continued. "Therefore, I must be that storyteller."

"How many stories can you tell," his father interrupted swiftly, "if you die the day after tomorrow?"

He thought his argument was good. But to his amazement, Duo simply smiled and said, "Come now, Father, where is your faith in me?"

"It is not a matter of my faith in you, but in Heero," the vizier replied. "I have searched for that faith for many days now, but, alas, I can find it no longer. I fear that it is gone."

"Then it is fortunate that I look with different eyes than yours," said Duo. "Though they are blind, my eyes see things no other eyes can, for that is the true skill of the storytellers."

"So your mother always told me," admitted the vizier. "But what will you hope to see when you turn your eyes on Heero?"

"That whish must be seen, or all is lost – his heart."

At his son's words, the vizier rose abruptly. "Since the queen's betrayal and his sojourn in the tower, Heero's heart is made of such stuff as I can hardly bear to think upon."

"Yet someone must," said Duo. "For it is not merely Heero, but also his kingdom which is sick at heart. Who is to say what will befall us all if the king's heart goes unknown?"

"But it is he who should know it, as all men must," protested the vizier.

"That is so," agreed Duo. "But did not you tell me the queen, his betrayer, died claiming he would know no peace until another should see his heart and know it, and have his own heart seen and known?"

"I did," answered his father. "For so Heero told me."

"Then think, Father!" urged Duo. "What torment such words must have wrought in Heero's soul! Think what pain he must have endured to have cast from his heart the wise and just teachings of his father, whom he loved and honored above all. If Heero no longer knows himself, then another must come to know him and lead him back to the place where he belongs."

"Perhaps," acknowledged the vizier reluctantly. "But I still don't see why that someone has to be you."

"Because it is for this that I was born," said Duo. "At my birth, Helena told my fortune in the way of her people: By my skill as a storyteller, the heart of a great nation will be lost or won. That is why my skill must be greater than any storyteller who has come before me – even that of Helena herself. For of whose heart does the prophecy speak, if not of Duo's?"

The vizier resumed his pacing, the fact that his son's words made sense brought no comfort to him. That he had kept the knowledge of his fate to himself for so many years troubled him greatly. He was so young, yet he had borne the burden of his destiny for all these years, alone.

"No!" he burst out. "I'm sorry, Duo. But _my _heart cannot allow you to do this. What does it matter if I am forsworn? I am old, and it's plain I am of no use to Heero. Nothing I could say would sway him from his terrible course. I'll pack you and Quatre up, and we'll move far away. Others have done so. Why shouldn't I?"

"Because you know it would be wrong. No one can out-travel destiny, Father."

"Maybe not," the vizier snorted. "But to save you from throwing away your life, I can certainly try."

"So you will not grant me the boon I ask," Duo asked after a short silence.

"No," his father said, his voice as full of certainty as he could make it. "I'm sorry, Duo, but I will not."

"Then perhaps you will grant me a different one," suggested Duo. "Will you go to my rooms, to where Helena's chest rests beneath my windows, open it, and bring me the length of cloth that you find?"

The vizier opened his mouth to deny this, too. Then he closed it. Standing perfectly still, he gazed into his son's beautiful sightless eyes. At what he saw there, the vizier realized that even if he argued with him all night and all through the following day, even if he was still arguing as the words of the ceremony were actually being spoken, Duo would never be turned aside from the course he had chosen. His will was set. He had made up his mind.

And the vizier realized too that he was much like his mother in this. And much like Heero, also. And so the vizier came at last to the place he suddenly suspected his son had wished to lead him all along: He saw the truth of the way things were.

If anyone could come to know the heart of the king when even he had ceased to do so, it would be Duo.

The vizier sighed. "Save your breath, my son," he told Duo. "Though my heart is filled with misgiving, I will grant this terrible thing that you require. Tomorrow night, just as the moon rises, I will take you to Heero and present you as his consort."

Duo rose and threw his arms around his father. "I thank you with all my heart. Now, come, my father. Between now and then there is much I will make clear to you. But first I must speak with Quatre."

"Quatre!" the vizier exclaimed, surprised. "What can he do? He is just a child."

"Much, if he will do exactly as I ask," Duo answered. "Walk with me, and I will tell you all."

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the long wait. And I am very sorry too for this announcement. A week (or so) from now, I am going to delete this story. I decided that the plot would rather fit in the 3x4 fandom so I am re-writing the whole story (actually, I just started replacing Duo's name with Quatre's. yes, I am _that _lazy). I apologize deeply to the people who are interested in this fic. Really. Please don't kill me or hurt me… much ('cause I know I deserve it). Really, 3 weeks of staying up at unholy hours to finish work for community immersion does things to the brain. Gomen, minna-san. So, for solid 1x2 fans, err, there'll still be 1x2 in the revised fic, but it'll mostly focus on 3x4. Which is my most-loved pair right now. And I don't make sense anymore. For flames, please mail me. Ja!


	6. Chapter 5

03/22/06

1:45 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. And I did decide to continue this work. Heh. Explanations in the A/N.

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 5: _In Which the Vizier Takes a Chance_

And so, at last the day came that King Heero had appointed – the day when he would take a consort of indefinite gender to accompany him in his life of solitude. On that day, he arose early as was his custom. Though the truth was, there was hardly any purpose in his going to bed at all. Ever since the night his queen had died by her own hand and, thus dying, had pronounced his doom, Heero had hardly closed his eyes. The images he saw when he did so gave him no rest. No peace. In this, he was like his brother Treize had been before him.

For several hours Heero went about his duties, as if this was simply a day like any other, trying to ignore the way his servants looked at him without looking – out of the corners of their eyes. But just as the sun reached its zenith, Heero grew restless. He set his work aside. Gathering his robes around him, he roamed the halls of his great palace, paying no heed to the way courtiers scuttled swiftly out of the way. No attention to where he was going.

He passed through halls of stone as dark as midnight, and halls as white as a scorching noonday sky. Halls as green as the limbs of cedar trees. As golden as the sand that stretched around the palace for countless miles. But Heero's eyes saw none of these things, for they were focused inward on the landscape he had made within himself on the nights after his wife died.

At length, Heero discovered that his ramblings had made him weary. He gazed about and found his wandering steps had taken him to a small courtyard. In one corner splashed a fountain. Drawing near, Heero saw that the pool was tiled with stones so blue that looking down into the water was the same as looking up into the sky.

At the sight of this place he felt old memories burst into life within him the way flowers will appear at an oasis in springtime. So Heero seated himself at the pool's edge – in the shade of a pomegranate tree that arched out above the water. He leaned back, looking up into the branches, and trailed his fingers in the pool. The water was as clear and bright as the surface of a mirror, but not once did Heero look into it. For it came to him as he sat that his own face had become a thing he had no wish to look upon.

And thus it was that the vizier found him.

When the vizier saw Heero seated by the pool that Duo had loved, a very long time ago it seemed now, he was surprised to feel his spirit lighten. Into his heart, which all night had grieved and was even now afraid for the fate which would befall his son should he fail in his endeavors, he felt a small, bright surge of hope. The first hope he had known since he had read Heero's proclamation and understood how far the young man he loved and honored had traveled away from his true self.

Perhaps, the vizier thought, all might yet be well. For perhaps the king and Duo were bound together in ways he himself could not fathom, but could hope that his son might. So, with his fine kidskin slippers making no more than a whisper across the cobblestones, the vizier moved to King Heero and bowed low.

For many moments, Heero did not acknowledge the vizier in any way, instead continuing to sit gazing upward and trailing his fingers in the water. But at last, he withdrew his hand and dried it on his pant leg, caring nothing for the way the water stained the blue silk. He made a gesture for the vizier to rise.

"Well?" Heero said softly.

At the sound of the king's voice, the vizier felt a shiver ripple across the surface of his skin, the way a wind will make smooth water ridge and pucker. _I am a fool to hope, _he thought._ How can there be hope when he sounds so cold?_

"My lord, I bring great news," he said, once more bowing low. "A citizen of your city has come forward of his own free will and asks that you accept his as your consort."

At this news, Heero sat up straight. "He? Who is he? What is his name?" he demanded brusquely.

The vizier raised an eyebrow, glad that the king truly was amenable to both man and woman. He had been toying with the idea that the King had truly turned into a woman-hater because of his former queen and would only wish the company of men, so Duo's proposal was amenable to him. There was the problem of an heir, though. It may not be a traditional pairing, but their culture would accept any union, as long as it is borne out of love.

And at this he was disturbed indeed.

"He did not speak his name," the vizier answered, glad that he could do so honestly. There was no reason for Heero to know that the reason the lad hadn't spoken his name was that he had no need to – for the vizier knew it as well as his own.

"You would present me with a consort when you do not know his name?" Heero asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice like honey from a knife.

The vizier knit his brows, as if in confusion, though his heart had begun to pound in fast, hard beats. If Heero learned his consort's identity too soon, all would be lost. Thus the vizier had told Duo as they made their plans the night before. And so they had decided how the vizier would speak upon this matter, and on his speaking, all their hopes might rise or fall.

"What difference does his name make, sire?" the vizier asked, his tone perplexed and querulous in the manner he and Duo had agreed upon. "Will not one person serve your purpose as well as any other?"

Heero shot to his feet, the color in his face high. Though the king's expression was frightful, at the sight of it the vizier felt a surge of hope for a second time.

For until his queen's betrayal, Heero had always been as true in his dealings with women as he was with men. Never viewing them as interchangeable, but seeking always to see each for himself alone. And so the vizier found the king's anger pleasing, for, in this, he seemed more like he had been before.

"You are certain he comes of his own free will?" the king demanded.

The vizier nodded. "Absolutely certain, sire. I knew you would wish to be reassured of this, and so I questioned him closely. He is under no outside compulsion. He seeks only to spare you grief, your country turmoil, and others the fate which he knows must befall him."

Heero began to pace, his brow knit, his movements brusque and choppy.

"So," he said after a moment. "You would have me sacrifice a paragon."

_Hah! _the vizier thought. _So that is the way the wind will blow. I am not the one who set the terms of this harsh bargain, O my king. You did that all by yourself. If you no longer find them to your liking, do not make me your scapegoat._

"A paragon? I cannot say, my lord," he said aloud. "To me he seemed a man much as any other. Will you see him at the appointed hour or not?"

Again the quick color flashed into Heero's face, and in that moment the vizier knew that he and Duo had gambled and won.

"What I have proclaimed, that I will do," Heero pronounced, and his voice was filled with angry pride.

Satisfied that in his pride and anger the king would pursue the identity of his consort no further, the vizier bowed low for a third and final time.

"Then I will bring him to you as you have proclaimed it shall be," he said. "Tonight, as the full moon rises. By its light, you will claim him as your bonded."

* * *

That evening, in the cool of the twilight just before the moon appeared, the vizier went to his son's quarters. Duo had dismissed his attendants and was helped only by his brother, Quatre. At the sight of his father, the young boy ran to him and threw his arms about his father's legs. 

"Papa, tell him he must not do this!" he cried.

"My little one," the vizier said. With one hand, he stroked his youngest son's head, noting how beautiful his blond hair looked in the glow of the candlelight. "Do you think I did not try?"

"Try again!" Quatre pleaded. He lifted his tearstained face to his. "Just one more time. I am afraid, Papa! So much depends on me. What if I do something wrong?"

"You will do nothing wrong if you do as Duo has asked," said the vizier. "Nothing less, and nothing more. Go to your room now and wash your face. Let me speak to your brother alone."

Quatre did as his father asked, casting one look back at Duo over his shoulder as he departed, brilliant blue-green eyes shimmering with tears. When he was gone, the vizier moved to where Duo had been standing silently all the while, dressed in his finest robe. They were white, his pants lined with golden trim, and in them, Duo seemed to shine like a candle flame against gathering darkness. He had let his chestnut hair down from its usual braid, letting it cascade down his back in shining waves.

"You are still set on this course, my Duo?" It is not too late. You can still change your mind."

"I have not changed it, my father," Duo replied. "Indeed, I think that I could not, even if that were what I truly wished. I cannot go back. Therefore, I must go forward."

To himself alone he kept the thought that it had been too late to change his mind in this from the moment he was born.

The vizier regarded his son steadily. At what he saw in his face, though his heart still grieved, his mind was satisfied.

"Come then," he said. "Say one last farewell to your brother. Repeat your instructions and ease his mind. Then I will go forward as you have told me I must: I will take you to King Heero."

TBC

--------------------

Author's Notes:

Well, so now I decided (with painful help from my so-called friends grumbles to herself>), to continue this story as is. As they so helpfully pointed out, it'll be too much work to revise the whole thing, and too much work would acquire time I don't have. I am very sorry for sounding too fickle in this matter. The truth is, I did not clearly think through my decision two weeks ago; too much stress maybe, or the horrendous schoolwork has finally caught up to my nonexistent brain. I really am sorry for working too slow on the updates. I'm graduating soon and am psyching myself up to finally being considered a Nursing student (yeah, we have a weird curriculum – we hafta graduate the AHSE course first before becoming nursing students) and we're gonna have summer classes (whee! We're finally gonna have hospital duty instead of community duty… scary.) so I really won't have much time to focus on writing.

For the people who really did not like the shift, do forgive me and I hope I still have your interest. Expect the ceremony next chapter and the start of a weird relationship… and weird storytelling session(s).

For the people who were ecstatic with the change, I AM SO SORRY! I will make it up to you and make a 3x4 fic! … again… I found a perfect plot and will work on it as soon as summer break comes… whenever that'll be for me. I hope you enjoy guessing which fairy tale I will base the fic on. Heh.

3 more days. 3 days to suffer through. Then I'll finally end the 2nd year of college. Joy.

To: AinoMiko500, I am SO sorry for not going through with the 3x4 change! I really am! I hope you would still like this story and please look forward to the next 3x4 fic I'll be writing. Ja! And I love the Trowa-smileys.

To: reject, err… I hope I haven't lost you yet. Gah. I am truly embarrassed. Gomen nasai!

P.S. WAI! I finally have a copy of the novel of "Only The Ring Finger Knows," entitled "The Lonely Ring Finger!" WAAAAAIIII! I love the last picture! (nosebleeds) I cannot wait for volume 2. Oh, and I also bought "Sweet Revolution." (drools) For anyone who collects yaoi manga out there, I recommend adding "Single Cell Organism" and "Our Everlasting" to your collection. They're beautiful mangas. It's a pity I didn't have enough money to buy "Yellow" vol. 4 though. Wah! Okane ga nai!


	7. Chapter 6

03/27/06; 8:45 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. Still unbeta'ed. Gah.

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 6: _The King Takes a Consort But Receives a Surprise_

Just as the full moon began to climb in the sky, the vizier strode through the palace, Duo at his side. The vizier was attired in cloth of silver. In one hand, he held the great curved staff, which was his badge of office. Through the halls as dark as midnight, the vizier and his son walked together. And halls as white as scorching noonday sky. Halls as green as the limbs of cedar trees, and as golden as the sand that stretched around the palace for countless miles.

Each place they passed was thronged with people, all longing to catch a glimpse of the one who had come forward to be King Heero's betrothed. But in this they were disappointed, for Duo had drawn a veil of purest white across his face to avoid all chance that anyone might realize who he was. Even his long hair was obscured by the delicate material.

At length, the vizier and his son reached their destination: Heero's great audience hall. Here the stones were clear as river water. Great columns of stone as purple-red as the flesh of plums flanked the entrance. Guards clothed all in white and armed with gleaming scimitars stood motionless on either side.

Three times the vizier struck his staff of office upon the stones to announce his presence. On the third strike, the king's chamberlain stepped before the vizier and Duo, placing his body and making himself a shield, for he was charged with keeping the life of the king secure, even if it cost him his own.

"Who seeks an audience with King Heero?" he demanded.

And the vizier answered, "The man who would be his consort."

At this, a sound filled Duo's ears, a sound like bees buzzing in their hive.

"Does he come of his own free will?" the chamberlain inquired, voice faltering at the end of his inquiry. "Let him answer with his own voice. By the king's command, in this, no other can speak for him."

And Duo answered, "By my will and no other's."

Now the sound that came to his ears was like wind moving across the sands – a long, low sigh.

"Enter and be welcome," the chamberlain said. And he stepped aside. Together, Duo and his father entered the audience hall, for the doorway was so vast they could move through it the same way they had arrived before it: side by side.

Down the length of the audience hall, the vizier and Duo paced, over a floor as smooth as glass. A vast domed roof sprang up over their heads, so cleverly made that if you looked up, there were places where you could see the sky. Already the first of the evening stars were shining through it. Smooth gray columns stood straight and tall as trees along the chamber's sides. Between them, packed as tightly as salted fish in a barrel, were the members of Heero's court.

The air was heavy with the scent of incense, of the agitated breath of courtiers, and something Duo could not quite identify. _Anticipation_, he thought. _And perhaps, fear also. _Though the room was filled with people and the day had been warm, the air burned with cold as it struck Duo's nostrils.

And so, for the first time since he had known in his heart what he must do, Duo felts its steady, constant beat stumble. For it seemed to him that the cold could have its source in just one place – and that place was the heart of King Heero, who soon would be bonded to him.

At his side, Duo felt his father's footsteps slow. He slowed his own to match his father's, then stopped at the exact same moment he stopped. And thus it was that Duo knew that his destiny was now at hand, for he had come at last to stand before King Heero.

He was seated on a raised dais upon a throne of cedar, polished until it gleamed as red as ember. On his fingers flashed rich jewels. His body was adorned in cloth of gold. As he stared down upon the vizier and the man who stood beside him, his eyes glittered as bright as a pool struck with sunlight.

As the king's gaze moved over him, for the first and only time that he could remember, the vizier discovered he was glad that Duo was blind. For he had never seen a man's eyes look as Heero's did – empty of all emotion save a fierce determination to continue on the path that he had chosen. But this determination burned not hot, but with a hard and icy cold.

"You are welcome, my lord vizier," Heero said, and at the sound of it, Duo felt his stomach muscles clench, for never had he heard a voice so empty of emotion.

_What will I do_, he wondered suddenly, _if the truth of things is even worse than I supposed?_

What if it wasn't that Heero's heart had been turned to stone as all had whispered? What if the king no longer had a heart at all? To see a thing that wasn't there was beyond even Duo's skill.

And then it came to him that he already knew the answer to his question: If King Heero's heart had left him entirely, then in the morning he would die.

"Who is this that you have brought before us?" the king asked.

And the vizier answered, "One who would be your royal consort. This is the hour you did appoint for one of your subjects to come forward and offer himself, if he would. As you proclaimed it must happen, so it has come to pass."

"Then let me see his face and know his name," commanded Heero.

At these words, Duo felt his father tremble, he whom he knew had never trembled in his life till now. And his father's fear helped to steady him, though Duo was surprised by the knowledge that this could be so.

_I have not come to die, _he thought_. But to do what must be done._

And so, before the vizier could reach for the veil that concealed his features, Duo grasped it and threw it back over his head himself. Up it flew, like a bird taking wing, then settled upon his shoulders as softly as a butterfly. His chestnut mane, free of its delicate confines, swayed upon an invisible breeze before lightly framing his face. But Duo's voice was strong as iron as he proclaimed his name.

"I am Duo, son of Omar, the king's vizier, and Helena, called the Storyteller."

And in this way did King Heero and all he had assembled within his great hall learn who had come forward to be his consort.

Absolute silence filled the audience hall. Even the courtiers were too stunned to gossip. It was a terrible silence – one that stretched on and on. Until Duo lost track of how long he stood facing the king, his face bare, his body motionless, with his father quivering at his side like a horse before a race. The longer the silence stretched, the colder the air in the audience hall became, until it seemed to Duo he was wrapped in the cold hand of death himself.

He couldn't help but grin.

"What trick is this, Omar?" Heero demanded finally, in a voice both strained and harsh. "Do you think to thwart me? Do you hope, because he is yours, that I will turn aside from what I have proclaimed and, though I bond with him, not require that he die tomorrow morning?"

"There is no trick," the vizier answered, and Duo felt his father's trembling cease as he replied. As if the king's anger had steadied his father the way his own fear had steadied him. "Nor is there any hidden design. My son came to me and asked for a boon. I swore to grant it before I knew what it was that he desired. If I could have found a way to deny him, believe me, I would have done it."

Then, to his surprise for they had not discussed it, Duo felt his father step forward.

"Hear now what I shall proclaim, sire" the vizier said, his words coming hard and fast, as if a great dam had burst inside him.

"The moment my eldest son breathes his last is the moment I serve you no longer. I will take the son who remains to me and leave this land to travel far and wide. Everywhere I go I will proclaim to all who will listen the cruelty of King Heero. And I will proclaim that your land could have no greater gift than that your heart should beat no more.

"If I had not my younger son in my care, I would cut your heart out and feed it to the wild dogs of the desert myself."

At the vizier's words, a sound like a flock of panicked birds rose from the courtiers. Heero rose to his feet and the sound cut off.

"Be careful what you say, old man," he warned, blue eyes flashing. "To plot the death of a king is treason, and it is your life, not mine, which will be lost."

"Then so be it," the vizier answered. For he found that not even the love he bore to Quatre could still his tongue now that he had begun.

"Take my life if you will, but I will not take back what I have spoken. All here know that I have served you well, King Heero, as I served your father before you. And always by speaking the truth. I have done nothing more than speak it to you now. If you have not the ears to –"

"Father, please!" interrupted Duo, as he stepped to the vizier's side. "Truth or not, to speak so now does nothing but pour oil upon a fire. No will but my own has brought me to this place. This you know, for this I have spoken. Let this fact content you now, and King Heero also."

There was a second pause.

"Your son speaks wisely, Omar," Heero observed after a moment, a calculating glint entering his eyes as he stared into Duo's unseeing eyes. "For his sake, I will set aside my anger and forget your rash words. But guard your tongue well, remember your younger son, and do not expect me to show such mercy a second time."

"Mercy is a thing I have ceased to expect from you, sire," the vizier answered.

"Enough!" cried Duo. "Bring forth the holy man, and let there be an end to talking."

At a signal from the chamberlain, the holy man who was to perform the bonding ceremony stepped forward. The chamberlain himself took Duo by the hand, guided him up the steps, and placed his hand in that of Heero. And it seemed to him that the grip of Heero's fingers felt as tight and cold as prison bars.

And so it was that King Heero and Lord Duo were bonded. With the full moon shining down upon them like a plate of silver polished by the vigorous hands of their gods.

TBC

**

* * *

**

**A/N:**

For the next chapter, expect the… no, not the honeymoon (blushes)… expect the start of the storytelling thing. I figure that only Duo could talk long enough to save his own life…

And as promised, here's a slight preview of the 3x4 fic (untitled, as of now) I am gonna write sometime in the far future. Enjoy. Hopefully.

**Untitled**

(Quatre's POV)

_Closing his eyes into the sun…_

------------

… produced dancing flashes of orange, red and yellow bursts behind his lids. An insect chirped and the repetitive sound lulled him hypnotically. Soon he lapsed into a half sleep, and a scene took form behind his closed lids.

_Hundreds of armed men and horses battled on a field. Swords clashed and arrows flew. He was peering out of eyes not his own, half his vision obscured by a thick portion of auburn hair. An anguished cry of pain grabbed his attention and spun him around. "Noooo!" someone shouted, and he had the feeling he was the one who had spoken._

_Then he felt himself seem to lift into the air. Glancing down, he saw the whole panorama of the violent battle, and directly below him, he saw a soldier fall. His armor was sprayed with blood. As his knees buckled beneath him, he threw back the metal visor and gazed upward, torment written across his features._

_Quatre was mesmerized by the most beautiful green eyes, taking the one obscured by the man's bangs into account, he has ever seen._

His eyes snapped open. Once again he was in the tranquil forest, but his heart was pounding. He searched in every direction, looking for signs of battle. Only the gentle noises of nature surrounded him.

TBC

* * *

To Pac: Wow. 20 years of Nursing! ... (gapes) Gah! I can barely get through 6 NCPs! Woe is me! Heh. 'Tis weird but VERY flattering to know that you are still interested in this fic. Thanks! (huggles)

To Camillian: Heh. I guess everyone recognized Duo, but not upon his immediate arrival. Heh. I am gonna enjoy writing their first storytelling night together, but the stories wouldn't be the regular ones (e.g. "Aladdin" or whatever). I am very grateful that you still like this fic. Thanks! (huggles)

To the people who still read this... thank you! (sobs)


	8. Chapter 7

03/31/06; 7:45 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. I am VERY mean to my beta. I don't even give her the chaps anymore since I hafta finish this thing by the time I start my 3rd year of college. Which starts this June. Gah. Hontou ni gomen nasai, Pandora-chan!

What's up: a rather conversational honeymoon and Quatre resurfaces.

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 7: _In Which Hidden Things Begin to Reveal Themselves_

Then finally, the moment came when Heero and Duo were left alone.

The ceremony was over, the courtiers dismissed. Last to say farewell to the new royal consort had been Omar, the vizier, his father. Duo would not see him again until the morning. If he had been successful, his father would embrace him with joy when the sun arose, for he would live – if only for one day longer. If not, father and son would embrace in sorrow. Then, the vizier would perform his final duty for King Heero and lead his own son to the executioner's block.

But which outcome it was to be had yet to be decided, though Heero knew it not.

"I bid you welcome to my – our – quarters," Heero said as he held aside a tapestry and ushered Duo inside. For these rooms would, indeed, be his, if only for this night. Gently, Heero seated Duo upon a low divan, then roamed the room, unable to settle, certainly unable to sit at his consort's side. Duo could hear his agitated footsteps moving back and forth.

_What sort of sign is this? _he wondered. At this very moment, what was going through his king's mind?

_Gods!_ Heero thought frantically as he prowled the room like a caged tiger. _Why doesn't he say something?_

For it had come to him suddenly as he beheld Duo sitting in his own rooms that, although his will had carried him this far, it would carry him no farther. Even his imagination seemed to have deserted him, for he could conjure up nothing beyond the present moment.

_What on earth am I supposed to do now?_

Hardly aware of what he was doing, Heero reached up to tug at the neck of his golden robes. When had they grown so uncomfortable? he wondered. For the fine cloth felt like sand against his skin, rubbing until he was raw and smarting. The collar felt like hands around his throat trying to choke him. Above it, Heero's face felt brittle, as if made of cold, thin glass. He half feared to speak, lest his features should splinter and slide off.

_What is the matter with me?_ he thought. He had done nothing but carry out his own will. Match his footsteps to the path that he had chosen. The only one he had been able to see. Since he had first come down from the tower, it was the path that had steadied and guided him. He was sure it was the right one.

Why, then, did he suddenly seem to have lost his way? Why did everything that once seemed so right, now suddenly seem to be so wrong?

"Will you eat?" he asked abruptly. The thought of food made his stomach turn, but anything would be better than to continue dwelling on his own thoughts. Turning toward Duo, Heero gestured to a series of small tables near the divan. They were loaded with every kind of delicacy the palace cooks could prepare, as if they had wished the new consort's last meal to be a particularly fine one.

"Please, choose whatever you like."

At his words, Duo shifted position ever so slightly, turning his body toward the sound of his voice. Heero scrubbed his hands across his face. _Fool! _he chastised himself. _How will he choose when he cannot see?_

How could he have forgotten that Duo was blind? But there was something about the other man that encouraged Heero to forget, so sure did he seem of himself. And thus it was, so wound up was Heero with his own inner turmoil, he failed to see the turmoil in Duo.

Heero saw the pallor of Duo's skin, but not the fine sheen of perspiration upon it, like dew upon a rose. He saw the hands clasped tightly in his lap, but not the way they gripped each other till the knuckles gleamed white as mother-of-pearl beads. He saw the fineness of his garments, but not the way they quivered in time to the too-quick beating of his heart.

Cool and remote Duo seemed to him. As unafraid as he was untouched. And suddenly Heero was angry that Duo should be so unmoved while he himself was not. And he welcomed his anger, for it was clean and simple. Here, at last, was a feeling he recognized.

"Your pardon," he said, his voice sounding ugly even to his own ears. "With your permission, I will change my robes. You may do so also if you wish. Shall I summon a servant to attend to you?"

"No, thank you, my lord," Duo answered simply. "But make yourself comfortable, by all means."

At his answer, Heero bit down, hard, upon his tongue. Of course he would not change, for he had brought no other garments with him. Why should he when he would die with the coming of the sun?

_I must get away from here, _Heero thought almost desperately.

"For a moment, I will leave you, then," he said. Turning, he pushed aside a hanging and vanished into the depths of his apartments.

For several moments, Duo sat perfectly still, his only movement his steady breathing in and out. At first this brought no peace, for with every breath he took, his mind repeated the same phrase over and over:

_What have I done?_

And, just as swiftly as his mind posed the question, his heart gave the reply: _What I must._

For years he had unconsciously schooled himself to face this test, teaching himself to rely upon himself alone. Now he would be up to the task that lay before him, the one Helena had told him was his destiny, or he would not. And if not he, then no one.

_But it will be hard, _he thought. Much harder than he had thought. For though he had listened for it carefully, it seemed to him that he had heard no warmth in Heero at all. He was cold, through and through. So cold that Duo could feel it in the very marrow of his bones.

With a jerky motion he unclasped his hands, ran one of them nervously over the fabric of the divan, then paused. Slowly, more carefully now, Duo explored the fabric beneath his fingers. At the unexpected feel of what he found there, he felt his thoughts steady and his courage revive.

For what he felt beneath his fingers wasn't the subtlety of silk. It was the simplicity of finely woven cotton. Here, in this place that was most truly his, Heero surrounded himself not with things to compel and impress, but with things to make a refuge and a home. And the knowledge of this warmed Duo's heart, as he hoped to find the way to warm Heero's.

And so he sat, his fingers stroking the fabric of the divan and a gentle smile gracing his features. And this it was that Heero found him. Coming back into the room, certain now that he had himself under control, he caught the gentle motion of Duo's hand and stopped short. For the first time he thought he saw Duo's special legacy manifest. For the first time it occurred to him to wonder if, like Helena, Duo could see things that others could not.

And at this wondering, Heero felt something move within him, even within his heart that he, himself, had turned to stone. But what it was, he could not tell. So he continued into the room and watched the way Duo heard the sound of his coming and turned his face toward him once more, his exquisite eyes more beautiful in the lamplight.

"Ah!" he said, and Heero saw the way his face lit up. "You are much more comfortable now."

"I am, indeed," Heero answered. "But how can you tell?"

"By the sound of your movements," Duo said. "You walk with more ease than you did before. And the sound of the fabric is gentle as it brushes against itself." He cocked his head, as if considering, and Heero spied the end of his braid. He felt disappointment well out, wanting to see those chestnut curls unfettered and framing his face. He was startled from his daze by that silken voice. "You are wearing a caftan, and your feet are bare, like a boy's."

"That is so," Heero said, his tone astonished. At the sound of it, Duo gave a laugh like chimes in the wind.

"There is no magic in this, I assure you," he said. "More like a lucky guess, my lord. My father often dressed this way when he came to see me at the end of the day after his court duties were done. He told me he had acquired the custom from the old king, your father, I simply thought you might have done so also."

At the mention of Omar and his own father, Heero sobered. "I have no wish to speak of fathers."

"As you desire, so it shall be." Duo's smile faded away, and the room was filled with silence once more. At this, Heero felt the thing inside him stir again, but this time he thought he knew its name: It was called sorrow.

"What will you have to eat?" he asked, after a moment. _And now I am back where I started, _he thought, only this time, he discovered he _was _hungry.

"I would like to try whatever pleases you," Duo answered promptly, a mischievous grin lighting his features.

Heero felt his face color and was glad Duo could not see it. He simply did not understand the way Duo treated him. Where was his anger? His resentment? His fear? His hate? Was he so cold and untouched that he felt none of these things?

"Why?" he inquired.

"So that I may get to know you better," Duo said, as if any new lover might. As if the meal he and Heero were about to take was merely the first of many they would enjoy together, instead of the only one. And now the thing within Heero was called pain. And as he recognized it, it burst forth.

"_Why?" _he cried again. And, though the word was the same as he had used just moments before, both he and Duo knew the question he posed was not.

"Duo! For years you have kept yourself apart, since you were nothing more than a child. Now you come forth for this. I do not understand you."

_Nor I you, my lord, _thought Duo. _How can you travel so far from yourself and not even perceive that you are lost?_

But he spoke none of this. Instead he said, "Because it is what I wished, Heero."

Heero gave a muffled, unbelieving snort. "What you wished," he echoed. "Do you mean you wish to die?"

"Of course not," answered Duo. "I wished – " His throat closed suddenly, and he cleared it. He knew that he must speak the truth in this, but it was a difficult one to tell.

"I wished to be the one to truly see, to come to know your heart. At least, I wished to try."

At his words, Heero felt his stone heart give a crack, and the pain surged forth into his veins, scalding as lava. _Too late. Your wish has come too late, _he thought.

"How will you see it?" he asked, his tone bitter. "How will you see anything truly? You are blind, Duo."

The words hung, awful, in the air. And Heero discovered he could hate himself.

"That is so," Duo answered, his voice calm. "Do you think that is the most important thing about me? If eyes are all one needs to see and know another's heart truly then answer me this: When you look at me now, do you see and understand _my _heart?"

Heero was silent for so long, Duo feared he would not answer. But at last he replied, "No, I do not, Duo."

"Then perhaps you should not be so quick to judge what I can do, though my eyes see not as yours."

"You think that I'm a monster, don't you?" Heero asked, the words tumbling forth before he even knew they had been formed.

"No," Duo answered swiftly. "Not that."

"What, then?" asked Heero.

This time it was Duo who paused before he answered, for had he not just told himself he would not speak of this? But Heero had asked, and so he answered truthfully.

"I think that you are… lost."

"Lost!" Heero cried, stung. "Do you think I am a child, then?"

"No," Duo answered steadily. "Only that you act like one. A great kingdom is in your hands. All look to you, yet you see only yourself, Heero."

A shocked silence filled the room. Not since he had truly been a child had anyone spoken to him in this manner, Heero thought.

"I am the king. How dare you speak to me so?"

"And I am your consort, your bonded, if only for this night," Duo answered as his grin widened. "What will you do to punish me for answering truthfully when you bid me to speak? Kill me before my time is up?"

"Enough!" Heero exclaimed, for these words horrified him. Did Duo truly think him capable of such a thing? _But why not? _he answered himself. Had he not proclaimed that he would die tomorrow morning, and for even less cause?

"I have no wish to quarrel, Duo."

"Nor I," said Duo. To Heero's amazement, Duo's grin turned into a beautiful smile, making his insides flutter disturbingly. "But you make it hard not to, you know."

Heero gave a startled bark of laughter, all his anger suddenly gone. It felt good to be with someone who was not afraid to speak his mind, he realized to his surprise. His late queen had certainly never spoken to him so. Now that he thought about it, they had barely conversed at all. Perhaps if they had…

_No, _Heero thought. He would not travel down that road. There was no sense in comparing the one who had betrayed him to Duo. That much, he could already tell.

"I will make you a bargain," he said now, careful to keep his tone uncharacteristically light. "I will admit that I am incorrigible if you will admit that you have a sharp tongue."

His late wife would never have taken such a bargain, Heero thought. She would have denied his faults, for was he not the king? And, in denying his, she had hidden her own.

"Well, of course I have a sharp tongue," Duo said, as if Heero had but stated the obvious. "I am the child of a storyteller, am I not?"

"That is so."

"Well then," Duo said, and he extended his hand, as if to seal the bargain. Heero took it between his own. For the first time, he learned how warm Duo's hands were. He could feel calluses on its palm and wondered what type of weapon Duo used. He knew that he took weapons lessons, but never did it outside; he was as pale as Heero was tan. He felt the way his lean fingers trembled within the cage of his own.

"All this bargain-making has made me hungry," Duo said as he slid his hand from his. "I thought you promised me food, my lord."

"So I did," Heero admitted. He filled a plate, sat down at Duo's feet, and they shared a meal in companionable silence.

But again and again as they shared the food, Heero's fingers met those of Duo. Until he found himself craving Duo's touch more than the food. What would it be like to set the meal aside and simply touch him? Run his fingers along Duo's silken hair. To run his fingertips across Duo's palm and up his arm until he had coaxed his head down upon his shoulder. What would his own head feel like resting on Duo's heart? he wondered. Could the very beating of it have the power to warm him?

When he realized the direction his thoughts had taken, for the first time since the night he discovered that he had been betrayed, Heero realized how weary and confused he was.

_Duo is right, _he thought. _I am well and truly lost._

And for the first time, he realized how cold he was.

But just when his thoughts would have given him over to despair, he was pulled back by the sound of Duo's voice.

"Might I beg a boon of you, my lord?"

"Do I get to know what it is ahead of time?" Heero asked, glad to be distracted from his thoughts. But as he turned his head to look up at him, he caught the line of worry between Duo's brows, and he was sorry that he had teased him so. "You may have whatever you wish," he promised swiftly, "if the granting of it brings no stain upon my honor."

"I swear that it will not," said Duo. "You know I have a brother, who is but ten years old."

Heero nodded, though he felt his stomach sink. "Quatre."

"It has always been my custom to say good night to him each evening," Duo went on. "Might he be permitted to come to me here, so that I might wish him both good night and farewell?"

"Such a thing is easily granted," Heero said. But his throat felt thick, for he remembered the grief that he had felt upon his first parting with his own brother, Treize. This parting of the brothers would be both first and last, and he himself would be the cause.

"It grows late. Do you wish to send for him now?"

"If it pleases you," Duo answered.

"Stop doing that!" Heero burst out before he could help himself. He rose, and set their empty plate upon a nearby tray.

"Stop behaving as if you were my servant. It does not suit you, Duo. I like the sharp edge of your tongue better than the dull one. I seek to please you in this. Just say what you want."

He felt his fists clench; there was little enough else by which he could please Duo, and he had suddenly discovered that pleasing Duo was a thing he wanted, very much.

If Duo was distressed by this outburst, he did not show it, answering merely with another one of his impish grins, "Then it would please me to send for him now."

So Heero clapped his hands to summon a servant to fetch Quatre. When he was brought, he threw himself at once into Duo's arms. His tears flowed freely, for he had yet to learn the way to conceal his feelings, being but a child. And Heero was moved at his grief.

"Would you like me to leave you alone?"

At his words, Quatre's head shot up. "No! You must not!" he cried.

"Quatre, remember you are speaking to the king," Duo remonstrated gently, brushing a few stray golden locks away from his tear-streaked face.

Quatre's face colored and he bit his lip. "That is… I beg you to stay with us, my lord. There is something I would ask of my brother, but you alone can answer yea or nay."

"What is it that you wish?" asked Heero, intrigued.

"My brother tells me a story each night before I sleep," Quatre explained and, though his eyes managed to meet Heero's without flinching, his voice was soft and small. "He reads the cloth in the way of his mother, Helena the Storyteller. For as long as I can remember, he has done this, but after tonight – "

But here his aquamarine eyes filled with tears once more and he was unable to go on.

_So the rumors are true, _Heero thought. _Duo has become a storyteller, like his mother before him, and his grandfather before her._

"You would like him to tell you a story," he said. _One last story._

Quatre nodded.

"By all means," said Heero, pleased that he could grant the child's wish. At his words, Quatre gave a great sigh. His distress seemed to leave him, and he nestled his head upon his brother's shoulder.

Above the young boy's head, Duo's eyes met those of Heero. In that moment, it did not seem to him that Duo was blind. Instead he thought he saw him very well. Though what Duo saw when he looked at him, Heero could not tell. Then Duo looked down, and the moment passed.

"Thank you," Duo said softly. "Will you please send for my trunk? Only then will I be able to do as my brother has asked."

And Heero said, "I will do so at once."

And now it was Duo who sighed, for though he knew his greatest test still lay ahead, he was satisfied that it was well begun.

TBC 

------------------------

**A/N:**

Be prepared for the start of the storytelling sessions next chapter. As I've said in a previous AN, this will not include Aladdin or any conventional _1001 Nights _story. Heh. There. I updated twice this week. I need reviews. Or a hug. I just found out that our Battery exam (the exam that decides whether we advance to 3rd year college or be kicked out of uni; consisting of all our major subjects to date, namely Anatomy & Physiology, Health Care 1 & 2, Microbiology & Parasitology, and Health Economics) is moved from a week from graduation (April 18) to this coming Tuesday. (dies) Yes, our uni is run by sadists. And I am too lazy to review. Especially the Health Care subjects. (runs away screaming)

Now please people, I need reviews.


	9. Chapter 8

04/05/06; 5:55 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. I botched big time on the Battery Exam. I'm expecting the results, a.k.a. the confirmation of my failure this Friday. No, I am not pessimistic. I am realistic.

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 8: _Quatre Sets The Future In Motion_

"Very well, little one," Duo said fondly to his brother after the trunk had been brought. "You know what to do by now. Open the trunk and hand me the length of cloth you will find inside."

But to Heero's surprise, Quatre did not at once obey his older brother's instructions. Instead, he pulled Duo's head down by tugging gently on his braid. Then, he whispered something Heero could not hear, his aquamarine eyes flashing to his face and then away.

"If that is what you wish," Duo said, when his brother was finished, flashing him another one of his wide grins.

"It is," replied Quatre with a pleading look on his small face.

"Will you ask him, or shall I?"

"You do it," Quatre said.

"My brother wonders whether or not you would like to choose tonight's story, my lord," Duo said, turning to face his king.

"Me!" Heero exclaimed, genuinely surprised. "But why?"

"Tell him," Duo urged gently, seeking to stroke his brother's golden hair. "Don't be afraid."

"It's just – " Quatre faltered. "I wondered – " He pulled in a quivering breath and plowed on. "My brother has told me many tales, one every night since I was strong enough to open Helena's trunk. But it does not hold stories just for me. It holds tales for all. Do you not wish to hear one?"

"I do wish it," said Heero. And found with the saying of it that it was true.

_You have raised this child up well, Duo, _he thought. For, like the rest of the court, he had heard the tales surrounding Quatre's birth. _He is generous where others would find cause to be selfish, just as you are. _

"Then, if you please, my lord," said Quatre, and he gestured to the trunk.

So Heero knelt and opened the ebony trunk that had once belonged to Helena the Storyteller. As he did so, he heard a sigh like the final gust of a windstorm pass through Quatre. He glanced up to find his gentle eyes regarding him solemnly. He found himself smiling, and was surprised and glad that the boy smiled back. Then Heero gave all his attention to the trunk.

Deep inside he thrust his hands, reaching down, down, down – a very long way it seemed to him – until his fingers touched the very bottom. Then up and down and back and forth Heero swept his hands until he was certain he had covered every inch of the trunk's interior.

Nothing. There was nothing.

_I cannot bear this! _he thought frantically.

What if his true destiny was this: Always to be unable to obtain what others seemed to come by without thought.

What had Quatre said? That Duo had told him a tale each night since he had first grown strong enough to lift up the lid of the trunk. How many times had he reached in and pulled forth the thing he longed for, each time successful though he was just a child?

But for the king, it appeared, there would be nothing. No tale, just as there had been no trust.

No love.

_No! not this time! _thought Heero. _This time will be different. This, I vow._

And as if his vow contained the power of a wish, his hands found the thing they had been searching for.

Heero seized the piece of cloth in his hands as he drew it forth as if he were afraid it might escape him now that he had found it. Then almost at once, he relaxed his hold. Passing the cloth from hand to hand as if trying to learn its texture. To figure out how Duo would be able to perceive and decipher what he could not.

Though the finding of it brought him wonder, to Heero it still seemed but a simple piece of cloth. It was thick and heavy; its texture rough in some places and smooth in others. It seemed to cling to his hands, then slip away all in the same moment. Even its color seemed changeable, so that he could not truly say just what color it was.

"This is all that I could find," he said at last. He sat back upon his heels and raised the cloth to Duo.

"That is as it should be," Duo answered with a small smile as he stretched out his arms. Heero laid the cloth across them. "For it means this story is yours. Will you hear it?"

"I will," said Heero.

At these words, Quatre sighed once more. Heero closed the lid of the trunk, lifted it, and set it aside. Quatre then curled up at his brother's feet. Heero retired to a nest of cushions nearby.

For many moments Duo did nothing but sit silently, his head bent, small wisps of chestnut hair framing his intent face. He seemed as if he was listening to the story within the cloth. Then he began to move his fingers from side to side across it – on one end only, Heero noted. Not from end to end, as if to learn the tale in its entirety, but only the place where it would start. Though how Duo knew which end was which Heero could not even begin to guess.

"This tale is subtle. It has many twists and turns," Duo said at last. Then to Heero's secret delight, his bonded's face lighted up in a beautiful smile. "As befits the mind of a king, perhaps."

"Perhaps," agreed Heero with a slight twist of his lips.

"It is long, as the life of a king should be," Duo went on. "Are you sure you have the will and the patience to hear it through to the end?"

"I do," Heero vowed with a determined glint in his cobalt eyes.

Though he expected him to begin at once, Duo sat perfectly still for the count of a dozen heartbeats.

"Then I will give you its name and begin," Duo said at last. "The story you have chosen is called…"

TBC 

------------------------

**A/N:**

I am truly sorry. I wanted to forget my impending doom for a while so I decided to update this fic. I promise that Duo's tale would begin in the next chapter. Gah. Am off to read a few scans. Thank goodness for my best friend's extensive suppliers of everything yaoi. Does anyone know "Crimson Spell" by Ayano Yamane? I only have till chapter 7 and I'm like "I want more!"


	10. Chapter 9

04/10/06; 10:55 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. I PASSED THE DAMNED BATTERY EXAM! (dies) Thanks to all who wished me luck! 'Tis such a bittersweet thing though 'cause two of my close friends failed. They won't be accepted to the uni anymore… (bawls) But oh well. I am now inspired to write…

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 9: _The Tale Of The King Who Thought He Could Outshine The Stars_

"Once, in a country so far away that you and I will never visit it, there lived a king who desired one thing above all others: to have a son. This was a great puzzle to many of his courtiers since the throne was not merely confined to a male heir. The king's own mother, in fact, was testament to that. He had a wife of many years whom he loved dearly, but, because she had given him only daughters, he divorced her and set her aside. He then chose a new, young wife who was beautiful and virtuous, as his first wife had been in her youth, a thing the king had conveniently forgotten.

_Surely_, he thought, _a wife such as this will give me the son I have desired for so long._

"But this marriage proved more disastrous than the first. For, while the king's first wife had at least given him daughters, his second wife gave him no children at all. Finally the king decided to consult an oracle. Something in the stars was working against him. This much now seemed certain. He needed to discover what it was and what sort of sacrifice might be required of him. Not a very great one, he hoped. So he kissed his wife the queen and set off.

"For many days the king traveled, making his journey to the oracle on foot, for so it had always been done. For all in this country knew that those who see what no one else can care nothing for the trappings that make others so proud. And so the king took no servants or retainers; he wore no fine clothes but only simple pilgrim's garments. After several days of traveling by both day and night, he reached the foot of a great mountain. Its top was shrouded in clouds. None could remember when its peakhad last been seen. But there, all knew, stood the oracle and the seer who could read the stars.

"Now, at the foot of this hill ran a stream so clear you could see every stone in the streambed. Its water was as pure as starlight itself, and so cold that people did not drink there to slake their thirst for fear the water would freeze their throats closed. For many hours the king walked alongside this stream, searching for the place where he might cross it and find a way up the mountain. Just as the sun began to sink in the sky, he realized he had walked the entire way around the mountain's foot and arrived at the place where he had started. And still he had not found the way across the stream and up the mountain.

"Discouraged, the king sat by the streamside to rest himself while he considered what to do next. Try as he might, he could reach no other conclusion than that he would have to brave the icy water in order to reach the oracle.

"No sooner had he reached this conclusion than the king heard a rustle and a stomp behind him. Leaping to his feet, he spun around and beheld a man so old he was bent over nearly double. His wizened features were folded in upon themselves like a piece of fruit left too long in the sun.A milky-blue film covered the surface of his eyes. The king found the sight of the old man revolting. He was not accustomed to such ugliness.

"His first thought was to drive the old man away. But at the last moment, the king remembered that he stood at the foot of the oracle. If ever he should be on his best behavior, this was the place. So he resisted his first impulse and spoke to the old man kindly.

"'What do you here, Father?' he asked. 'Do you come to consult the oracle?'

"'My business is my own and none of yours," the old man replied in a voice as dry and scratchy as a sandstorm.

"The king felt a spurt of anger at his words, for no one had spoken so to him in a very long time, if they ever had at all. Yet he mastered himself a second time, for now he remembered something else: It was said all were equal in the eyes of the oracle.

"'Though you will not reveal it, I will aid you in your business if I can,' he promised.

"'Excellent,' the old man replied at once. 'Then take me upon your back, and carry me across the water.'

"When the king heard this, he was greatly dismayed. For though he had been growing accustomed to the way the old man looked, that was hardly the same thing as being willing to touch him. Still, he knelt and took the old man upon his back as he had demanded, for the king could see no other option. Then, binding up his robes so that they at least might stay dry, the king waded out into the water.

"It was cold. So cold it sucked the breath from his lungs and made spots dance before his eyes. A cold that made his legs burn like fire. The stones of the streambed were slick as glass beneath his feet. At any moment, the king feared that he might slip, tumble all the way into the swift-moving current, be pulled under, and drown.

"His back itched with the desire to fling the old man from it and plunge alone toward the opposite shore. But again, the king mastered his impulse. What he had started, that he would complete. No sooner had he thought this than he felt his feet touch the far bank. Up, up, up, the king climbed. Until his head was spinning and his ears rang. Until it seemed to him that he would climb as high as the very stars themselves.

"Then suddenly the climb was over. The ground grew smooth and flat beneath his feet, covered with grass as thick and soft as a finely woven carpet. The king fell to his knees. The old man slid from his back.

"'That was well done,' the old man said. 'And a deed well done should always be rewarded. Ask your question, and you shall have an answer for it.'

"With that, he cast off his tattered cloak, and with it, his very form. Before the king's astonished eyes, he altered until a young _woman _stood before him, lovely and strong. Her long dark hair streamed down her back, black and lustrous as the night sky. Her eyes shone clear and bright and were as silver as the stars wheeling above her.

"And thus it was that the king realized that it was the seer herself whom he had carried across the water. And that what he had taken for the bank of the opposite shore had, in fact, been the mountain.

"And so he knew that he had come at last to the oracle.

"'What is it that you wish to know?' the seer asked as she seated herself upon the ground.

"'If you please,' the king said, suddenly humble, 'why is it that I have no son? It is what I have longed for above else.'

"'Show me your hand,' the seer instructed.

"The king held it out. The seer took it between hers and studied it carefully, running her fingertips back and forth across it. At her touch, the king shivered, for it was as cold as the water he had crossed to reach this place, and her skin was as smooth as the stones on the river bottom.

"'A man may not always have what he desires, even if he is a king,' the seer observed at last, and at her words the king felt his heart clutch. 'You have many daughters. Do you not love them?'

"'Yes, but –,' the king said, then stopped short.

"'Ah!' the seer commented, when he failed to go on. 'Though you are a king, I see that you are still as many other royal men are. You do not see what you have, but long to see what you have not.'

"At her words, a great fear and an even greater despair seized the king. 'Is it then hopeless?'

"The seer did not immediately reply but lifted her face up to the stars. And it seemed to the king that he could see the myriad patterns of them etched across the surface of her skin as if the seer bore the mark of the very universe itself.

"'It is not hopeless,' she said at last. 'Though your way may be hard. For thus say the stars. If you see what you desire but claim it not, long will be your path and great your sorrow.'

"Though her words were solemn, when he heard her proclaim them, the king felt a great weight lift from his heart. For it seemed impossible to him that he might see his son but claim him not. His wife would give birth; a midwife would place the infant in the king's arms. In jubilation, he would hold him high for all to see and declare 'I here see and claim my son.' When one was a king, such things were simple.

"'I do not fear this prophecy,' the king spoke out, his tone bold. And he saw above his head a single silver star go streaking across the heavens.

"'Ah!' the seer exclaimed, her gaze still upon the sky. 'So you think the light of your will can outshine what is written in the stars?'

"'I am a king,' the king said proudly. 'I am not as other men are.'

"'We shall see,' the seer replied. 'Go now, for you have made your choice, and what is done cannot be undone. All that remains now is for you to play it out.'

"So saying, she vanished, leaving the king to make his way alone back down the mountainside.

"He set off swiftly, his spirits high, determined to reach his home as soon as possible. With every step he took, the king became more and more certain that when he arrived at his palace, he would be greeted by the news that his young wife was with child. This time, he was sure, it would be the son for whom he had longed for so very long.

"_Who does that seer think she is? _the king thought as he marched along. _Why should she see my destiny more clearly than I? Other men may be ruled by what the stars proclaim, but not me. I am a king and therefore not as other men are._

"And so, by degrees, the king worked himself into a righteous fury at the way the seer had spoken to him – and worked himself out of heeding the warning of her prophecy. Thus occupied by his thoughts, he walked mile after mile, hardly noticing the passage of time. Indeed, it seemed to him that he marched through a contradiction; time either moved very, very swiftly or not at all. For even though he walked until his limbs ached and his brain grew fuzzy, neither night nor day seemed to come or go, but he moved always through a strange gray twilight.

"Finally the king began to realize a dreadful thing. Though he had walked until he was more tired than he had been in his entire life, he had not yet reached the stream that wound around the foot of the mountain. And with this realization came a great fear.

"What if, in this place of enchantment, he had become well and truly…"

---------------------

But here, Duo's voice was interrupted. Into Heero's apartment came a new sound: the crowing of the first cock of the morning. Its raucous greeting of the day ended on a note that sounded exactly like triumph, and then was gone. The room was filled with silence. As if awakening from a dream, Heero stirred and gazed around him.

Quatre was still curled up at his brother's feet, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and even. Heero himself still sat upon his nest of cushions, so enthralled by Duo's tale that he was in exactly the same position he had been when his consort first began to tell it. He hadn't so much as moved a muscle.

He had not noticed the passing of the hours. Neither the full moon setting, nor the stars snuffing out like the flames of a thousand candles, one by one. Instead he had stared up at another night's sky, in the company of another king. One he greatly feared was on his way to ignoring what was right in front of him and so was setting out upon a path that would be both long and filled with sorrow.

But with the crowing of the cock, the dream had been shattered and Heero returned to the real world once more. Day was here, impossible to ignore. Now he saw the way the sky had turned soft and pink like the inside of the shell his father brought him once following a great victory on the shores of some faraway ocean. Never had he seen so beautiful and terrible a sight, thought Heero, save for one thing only: When he looked on Duo. His consort. The other half of his life. His storyteller.

By his word, Duo had become all these things. And by his word, Duo's life would end with the coming of this bright morning.

TBC 

------------------------

**A/N:**

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Divorce! Gah. Just bear with me, onegai? Expect an update soon… As for what happens next, well, you know as much as I do. (winks)

**To GundamPilot03**... I love you! I can't wait to see your Merman-Trowa drawing! Wai! Arigatou! (huggles)

**To my reviewers **(especially of chappies 7 & 8), I am SO sorry I wasn't able to reply to your reviews! I was understandably… preoccupied for the past few weeks. Heh. Gah. That Battery Exam took a year off my life ('twas more like two weeks or so but who's counting?) and I shudder to think of what'll happen to me if I ever manage to take the Board Exam. (dies) 'Nyways, thank you SO much for the wonderful, beautiful reviews and I promise to reply to your reviews of this chappie, if you still feel up to making them.


	11. Chapter 10

04/15/06; 10:05 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. I am mourning the last day of my freedom. I'm going back to my uni dorm tomorrow (yes, on Easter Sunday; did I mention that my uni is EVIL!) and summer classes start on Monday. Meaning I won't get to update as frequently as I did in the break. Gah. But I will finish this story, worry not. Ok, off you go…

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 10: _Heero Surprises Many, But Himself Most Of All_

When he realized what was to come, Heero felt a great trembling in all his body, clear through to his stone heart.

_No! _he thought.

He did not stop to puzzle at his own swift rejection of what he had himself proclaimed must be so. He knew only one thing: Though the morning had come, Duo must not be allowed to die.

_I am the king, _he thought. _If I can will one thing, then I can will another. _Though what this thing should be, he did not yet know. But he rose to his feet, and at the sound of this, Duo spoke for the first time since he had broken off his tale.

"Is it day, then, Heero?"

Heero felt his throat constrict, but he answered steadily, "It is day, Duo."

"Where is my trunk?" Duo asked, and so surprised Heero. For he made no reference to what must follow the rising of the sun.

"Behind you."

"Will you take me to it?"

"Of course."

So, mindful of Quatre who still slept, Heero took Duo by the hand and led him to the trunk. Duo knelt before it, placed within it the piece of fabric holding the secrets of the story he had begun, then gently closed the lid and said:

"I am sorry, Heero."

"What for?" he asked, the surprise plain in his voice.

_Oh, what a great fool I am! _thought Duo. Surely it would have been better if he had not spoken. For how could he put what he was feeling into words? To do so might end his task almost as soon as it had begun.

He was not sorry to have become Heero's consort. Not sorry to have taken up his tale. To him, the way that he must take seemed as clear as it always had. His motives were true and just.

But it had come to him through the course of the long night that where he perceived a path running straight and true, Heero might perceive a different one. A way so filled with twists and turns that it could never come out straight.

Might not his actions appear like deception should Heero learn what he had done before he had truly come to trust him? How deep might such a wound cut, having been so cruelly deceived by a wife before?

Heero had not spared his life – not yet. Not even for a moment longer. But if he did, surely he would believe it was the result of his own will. It would not occur to him that it could be the result of Duo's storyteller's art also.

If he should see what Duo had done through any but the eyes of love, what would befall them both?

"Duo?" Heero prompted.

"Never have I began a tale I could not finish," Duo answered slowly. "Perhaps I should not have given my brother his way in this. His tales are short, for he is just a child. But you are a man full grown. I should have realized a tale that belonged to you would take more time. We may never know how the story ends, and for this, I am sorry."

"I do not accept your apology," Heero said almost harshly. He leaned down and gently helped Duo to his feet. "For I promised I would hear this story through to its end. Therefore I will do so."

At his words, Duo's heart gave a great leap, though he answered, "But – "

"Oh, do be quiet and let me think a moment," Heero exclaimed as he spun away in frustration. "Why must you always ask one more question? Why can you never let things be?"

"I suppose because I cannot help it," Duo said with an amused grin lighting his face, much to Heero's secret pleasure. "It is the way that I am made. What if the telling of this tale takes many nights, Heero? More than you now can perceive?"

"Then it will take as many nights as it takes! I am the king. All must abide by what I proclaim."

"So you keep saying. But will what you proclaim today still be so tomorrow?"

"How should I know?" Heero all but shouted, and Quatre stirred and moaned in his sleep. "Do you think I have all the answers just because I am king?" he asked, his tone suddenly weary and quiet.

"No, I do not think that," Duo said soothingly. "For surely a king is first a man. And so it must follow that a king does as all men do: the best he can."

At Duo's words, all Heero's anger and frustration left him for wonder. _He understands. _Duo did not expect him to be perfect just because he was the king, nor did he expect him to hide or deny his flaws as his former queen had.

And so he moved back to Duo and took his face between his trembling hands.

"You ask me questions for which I have no answers. I can only see this moment and it confuses me, for it contains things I did not think to find."

"Then let us solve one puzzle, at least," suggested Duo. "I will tell your story each night until it is done, and rejoice in the telling of it."

Heero felt Duo's words sink, deep inside him, like water into parched ground.

"I thank you for your generosity."

At his words, Duo's mouth quirked up again. "Now I know you are just a man," he said. "For I think you have grown confused over which of us is the generous one."

"No, I have not," answered Heero.

And Heero realized suddenly that the two of them were standing body to body and that he still cradled Duo's face in his hands. At this, a longing to kiss his tempting lips rose so sharply within Heero that it felt like pain. He released his face and stepped back.

"Come," he said. "Let us summon a servant to carry your brother. Go to your father and tell him what has come to pass. I think he will want to hear it from you, rather than from me. I hope that it will bring him gladness."

"I am sure it will," Duo said with another one of his heart-stopping grins.

And at that moment, the sun appeared through the wide window and shone upon Duo's face so brightly that even his blind eyes were dazzled.

TBC 

------------------------

**A/N:**

Too short? Expect chapter 11 _real _soon. Heh. I just had to let that out before I could let the story progress. What's up in the next chappie? We finally get to see the last person missing in the pairings I have given and how he fits in this story. Heh. Hope you won't be too shocked/affronted/whatever with his role.

Okay people, we're halfway through the story already. Gimme reviews, onegai? And for my reviewers, I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! (huggles)

And now I'm off to have breakfast. Ja!


	12. Chapter 11

04/15/06; 1:55 a.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. I am going back to HELL this afternoon. Tasukete!

to **bb**: thanks SO much for the review! (huggles)

to **phoenixfirekitsune**: I love you so much for your constant reviews! Arigatou! (huggles)

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 11: _A Plot_

And now, for a moment, we must leave Heero and Duo. Though they are the heart of this tale, a thing that is right and fitting for it is theirs. There are others who must be spoken of, for, without them, the tale cannot travel to its proper end.

I have told you how, in the time following his discovery of his late queen's betrayal, Heero locked himself in his highest tower and did not come down. Great was the fear and compassion his people had for him during these days – before he descended from the tower and all perceived that his heart had been turned to stone.

But what none perceived was that it was not Heero alone whose heart was altered during this time. There were others whose hearts were changed as well. First among them were the former queen's brothers, and their hearts were transformed in this way: They were turned into pillars of flame that burned with a desire for revenge. Until it was accomplished or their lives were ended, the fire could never be put out.

Now, Heero had been a prince before he had become a king, for that is the way things usually go. And so it follows that his first bride had been a princess, daughter of a kingdom taken by Heero's father in one of the many wars of conquest at which he so excelled.

The land he had conquered brought Heero's father great wealth and, though he was glad he could now call it his, he did not want its people humbled too much. He wanted them to retain their pride, for they had become his people, and their pride had therefore become his.

So he married Heero to the sister of the young king he defeated. The princess was very beautiful, with her long blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes, and this suited Heero's father's plans well. For in this way, he hoped to secure both his son's happiness and the allegiance of those who had been his foes.

The prince and princess had been married two years and two days when Heero's father died and Heero ascended the throne. They had been married three years and thirty days when Heero stood in the garden beside his brother, Treize, and saw his wife embrace another. Heard them plot murder even while they murmured words of love. On that night, the marriage ended, for the queen died by her own hand, cursing Heero as she did, and leaving no heir for the kingdom.

When the queen's five brothers learned what she had done, at first, they were glad that she lived no more. For, by her actions, she had brought a stain upon their honor that could never be erased. But even as Heero lay upon the tower floor changing the very fabric of his heart, so did the queen's brothers begin to change their hearts as well.

The eldest was the first to put his feelings into words. Disgraceful as they surely were, were not their sister's actions actually all her husband's fault? he inquired of his brothers.

King Heero had allowed his wife great liberties, a thing which was not wise, as the eldest brother had cause to know, for had he not been a king himself once?

But this Heero had been so foolish as to create the very garden in which his queen and her lover had plotted against him. He had even gone so far as to proclaim it a place no one, not even he, himself, could enter but by the queen's will alone. Such dealings between men and women simply were not natural.

"Our eldest brother is right," the second declared, a thing that caused the others to stare at him in wonder for none could remember the last time he had agreed with his elder brother.

These brothers were not like Treize and Heero. They were so jealous and quarrelsome, they disagreed about everything save the rising and setting of the sun. For these things seemed so sure and set in their course that even the brothers could find them no fault.

"Women are weak creatures," the third brother said, now picking up the refrain. "They require great guidance and careful watching."

Surely "freedom" was a word that had no place in a woman's vocabulary, he went on.

"That is so." The fourth brother nodded wisely, though he did not yet have a wife of his own. "And to that end, women should be kept indoors, within their own households." This was not cruelty, but a kindness, he reasoned, for it was better for them so. Life inside the home was the only kind of life that women understood, the only kind they were capable of understanding.

At this, the brothers clasped hands across the brazier around which they were gathered, congratulating themselves on the fact that for once in their lives, they were in accord. Why all men did not think as they did, they could not tell. But this much, they did know: If women were allowed too much liberty, either of mind or of body, trouble was bound to be the inevitable result.

And so, by these degrees did the brothers convince themselves that the deeds of their sister had, in truth, been her husband's fault. And no sooner had they convinced themselves of this, than the desire to be revenged against him – and so remove the stain upon their honor – sparked up and began to glow red-hot. For at Heero's feet could be laid the true source of their shame: He had failed to govern his wife.

If a man could not govern his own wife, how could he be expected to govern a country? the brothers asked themselves. And so, at last, they convinced themselves of one final thing more: Removing Heero would not simply be revenge. It would be justice, also.

And so they began to plot to remove Heero and place the eldest brother upon the throne. But bringing down a king is no easy matter, as many who have tried it have discovered to their cost.

The eldest brother was all for action. "Let us raise an army and storm the palace!" he shouted, leaping to his feet.

The second brother pulled him back down with one quick yank on his arm. "Get a hold of yourself," he ordered sternly. "And keep your voice down. This we certainly shall do, but in secret and slowly. To raise an army takes money and time. Is there nothing that can be done till then?"

"What about poison?" the third brother inquired. "Impossible," the fourth instantly scoffed. "We could never get close enough to Heero. We're too well known."

"All right, then, we'll hire an assassin," the third brother countered, not yet ready to give up his idea.

But this suggestion only increased the fourth brother's scorn. "And pay him what? Have you forgotten that we've no money? Besides, paying someone else to do our dirty work is a risky business. They can always be bought again by someone else for a higher price. It's our honor that has been sullied. We should handle this ourselves."

"How?" the first brother spoke up again, glaring at the second and fourth brothers in turn. "You don't like our ideas, fine. At least we came up with something. That's more than I've heard from you two so far."

"You didn't come up with something, you came up with the most obvious thing," the second brother replied. And so the argument was off and running.

They quarreled for hours until their eyes grew scratchy with smoke from the brazier, and their voices grew hoarse. And at the end of this time, they still knew only two things: They must discover who could be found to bear arms to support them, for they could not hope to completely overcome Heero on their own. In the meantime, the best way to keep an eye on him was from inside the palace. But who could be trusted to do this, they did not know. The brothers were about to retire to their separate chambers in frustration when the fifth and youngest brother spoke for the very first time.

"Let me go."

At this, his elder brothers jumped like the guilty conspirators they were, for the truth was that they had entirely forgotten the presence of their youngest brother. They often did this, for he was but a youth of fourteen years old, and had a penchant for blending in, unnoticed. He was more than old enough to join in their councils, according to their customs. But the youngest was unlike his older brothers in almost every regard. He was quiet and studious, slim and slight of build; not sturdy, boisterous and warlike as the others had been when they were young, but he was every bit as tall. The truth was that they did not understand him, mistaking his quiet air for inattention at best, and cowardice at worst. What they did not understand, they had chosen to ignore.

All the while as the others had been scheming and plotting, bickering and arguing, the fifth brother had been curled up like a mouse in the room's farthest corner. He had watched, inert eyes partially hidden behind long bangs swept to one side, and he had listened, but he had made no sound at all. Now his voice fell upon the ears of his brothers like a plunge into icy water, shocking them speechless.

The eldest was the first to recover. He strode to where his youngest brother was now sitting up straight and raised his hand to strike him. But the second brother grabbed his arm and held it motionless.

"What are you doing?" the third brother demanded angrily of the second brother, taking the first brother's side as always. He thought striking their youngest brother was a fine idea. It was the best way to impress the need for secrecy and silence upon him.

"Wait," the fourth brother counseled, stepping between his second and third brothers. He always took the second brother's side. In this way, the brothers were always balanced in their quarrels.

"We have discussed this matter fruitlessly for hours," the fourth brother reminded the others. "It is too late to prevent him from overhearing, for he has been here all along. Therefore, let us listen to what our youngest brother has to say."

"What he has to say?" the eldest brother mocked as he yanked his arm away from the second. "What can he have to say? He is just a boy."

"Exactly," his youngest brother piped up, unimpressed and unoffended by his eldest brother's show of temper. He had big fists, it was true, but his brain was small. Had he not allowed them to be conquered?

"Who pays attention to a mere boy? Not even you, my brothers. But those whom others do not notice may still see much, and they may do even more."

At his words, a sudden silence filled the room. It was broken when the second brother laughed suddenly. He leaned down and pulled his youngest brother to his feet.

"Are you not cold in this corner, small one? Come sit by the fire and tell us what it is you think you can accomplish that we cannot."

"Just this," his youngest brother said when all were seated around the brazier once more. "I can get into the palace. Once there, I can find a way to get close to King Heero."

The first and third brothers both gave barks of derisive laughter, but the second and fourth leaned closer.

"How?"

"Many inside the palace know your faces, as you have already noted," the youngest brother said in his deadpan voice, "for they fought against you when our country was lost. But they do not know my face, for I was too young to fight. I have been inside the palace only once, on the day our sister was married to Heero. Few had reason to notice me then. All eyes were on the prince and his bride."

"But you can't be sure," the eldest brother objected, more for form's sake than that he disagreed with what his youngest brother had said. They were principles and hierarchies to be maintained. Elder brothers deserved respect, not to be contradicted by those who were younger than they. "Someone may have noticed you."

"Why should they?" the youngest brother asked, a glint entering his green eyes. "I am just a boy."

The second brother chuckled, causing his older brother's face to turn the color of sour wine.

"Suppose we get you a place in the palace," the third brother said. "What then? How will you accomplish what must be done?"

"I don't know yet," his youngest brother answered honestly. "How can I know ahead of time? I will keep my eyes and ears open as I always do. When the time comes, I will know, and I will seize it. I will cleanse the stain from our honor and be revenged upon King Heero."

"Oh, this is nonsense!" the eldest brother exploded, leaping to his feet. "I will not trust something so important to one so young, this one least of all!"

"Shut up and sit down!" the second and fourth brothers roared.

At this, all eyes turned to the third brother, the only one who had not yet indicated what he thought.

"For once, I must agree with the others," he said, a thing that caused the eldest brother's mouth to open and close like a fish out of water, for the third brother had never disagreed with him before.

"We have talked all night and come up with nothing," the third brother went on. "Why should he not have a chance? His dishonor is as great as ours."

And so it was decided. The very next day the second brother, whose brain was the most devious, found a way to send his youngest brother to the palace as kitchen help. It was below his station to be sure, but there was an advantage in this that could not be ignored: If others overlooked children, they overlooked servants even more. One who was both a servant and child would therefore be all but invisible. So the second brother reasoned as he made his choice.

And so the youngest brother settled into life at the palace not long after Heero came down from the tower. He was there when the vizier proclaimed Heero's intent to marry whomever of his subjects who would present his or herself. He was there on the bonding ceremony of the king and Duo. He even managed to have a hand in preparing the wedding feast, helping to carry it to Heero's private quarters himself.

And, through it all, the youngest brother did what he did best: He watched. He waited. And he kept his eyes and ears open, never doubting that one day, his time would come.

TBC 

------------------------

**A/N:**

Heh. You and I know who this 'youngest brother' is, ne? heh. I've given enough clues to identify this mysterious creature. This'll be the last update for a time 'cause I need to concentrate in my summer classes. We're finally gonna have hospital duties! Whee! Although, I think we'll only be confined to giving shots and making beds. Ugh.

Next chap, I think we'll see how this mysterious guy would fit in with the royal people. Ja!

Oh, reviews would be very much appreciated. I dunno if I could reply though… gomen.


	13. Chapter 12

04/21/06; 11:45 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. Ok, I lied. I told a few reviewers that this chappie could take a bit more time, but I decided to cut it off here and resume the storytelling next chap so I could update today. Eheh. Gomen.

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 12: _Duo is Joyful, And The Conspirators Make A Discovery_

And so it came to pass that on the same bright morning that Heero decided to spare Duo's life for at least one more day, his former queen's youngest brother labored in the palace kitchens, keeping his ears open in between mopping his brow. Quatre was put to bed, having fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of his brother's story. And Duo himself was reunited with the vizier, his father.

Their reunion was a joyful one, but it did not last long. For no sooner had Duo returned to his old rooms and told his father what had come to pass than they were interrupted by a frantic pounding at the door. It was opened to reveal the chamberlain, his face bright red and his breath huffing in and out.

"My lord vizier, my lord Duo – that is – I meant to say – Your Highness – ," he panted.

"For heaven's sake," Omar cried out, genuinely alarmed. Never had he seen the chamberlain look like this, and he knew how important the other man's dignity was to him. Next to his love for the king, it was the thing he kept closest to his heart. "Stop worrying about getting our titles right and get to the point."

"The king," the chamberlain gasped out. "You must go to the king at once."

------------------

Heero was in his private audience chamber. Not the room he used for show, the one in which he and Duo were bonded, but the one from which he conducted the true business of running the country. It was simply furnished. At one end, tall windows looked out over the largest of the palace courtyards.

Though he could not see it, Duo knew the room well, for his father had described it to him many times. He could tell at once that the windows were open, for into the room there came a sound like the movement of the sea, a sound that both swelled and swallowed itself up all in the same moment.

"I am glad you have come, Omar," Heero said as the chamberlain ushered the vizier and his son into the room, then, at a wave of the king's hand, bowed himself back out again. No one hearing Heero would have guessed at the bitterness which had so recently passed between him and his vizier.

"Let your son stand back from the windows, but come here for yourself, and tell me what you make of what you see."

Duo's father gave his son's arm a quick squeeze, then moved to do the king's bidding. After a moment he said, "It is a crowd, my lord."

"I can see that for myself, thank you," Heero replied, his voice sharp. "It is their purpose that I cannot fathom. The captain of the guard said they began to gather before sunrise. I had him command them to disperse, but they refused. I fear this may be an uprising."

"They do not appear to be armed," Omar observed, though he had to admit Heero might have good cause to be alarmed even so. Never had he seen so large a crowd assemble in the courtyard, save for the funeral procession honoring Heero's father.

"Did your captain ask them why they had come?"

"I am the king," Heero said coolly. "Would you have me inquire of my own subjects?"

"Well, it does seem to be the most straightforward way of learning their intentions," the vizier said.

"I know why they have come," Duo spoke up from behind them.

He heard the scrape of Heero's sandals as he turned around.

"You what?"

"I know why they have come," Duo said again. "And why they have refused to leave. Are these things not plain to you also?"

Heero made an exasperated sound. "If they were plain to me, I would hardly have had the chamberlain summon you and your father at a dead run. Stop talking in riddles, and tell me what you think you perceive that I do not."

The vizier's head swiveled back and forth as he watched the exchange. _They speak to each other as if they have been familiar with each other for years, _he thought.

"They came to see an execution," Duo said simply. "And they have refused to leave because they do not understand why there has not yet been one."

There was a beat of silence. In it, though Duo could hear his own breath and - he thought – his father's, it seemed to him that Heero breathed not at all and that even the voices in the courtyard below had fallen silent.

"You mean they came to see _your _execution," Heero said at last. "What kind of a king am I that my people are so bloodthirsty?"

"It may not be that," Omar put in swiftly. "My first thought when I beheld this crowd is that I had not seen so many assembled since the passing of your father. Perhaps they do not come because they think my son's death will be a sport, but to pay witness and to honor him. By his death, many will live."

"I think that they are afraid," said Duo.

"Afraid," Heero echoed, struck. "By your actions, they have been spared. What have they to fear?"

"_Your_ actions, my lord. What you have proclaimed must be has not come to pass. Does this bode well or ill? You alone can tell them."

"You think I should explain myself to my own subjects," Heero said with another sharp look at his mate.

"I think you should allay the fears of the people who loved your father, and who love you also," replied Duo. "Fear makes people unpredictable. They become like – ,"

"Children," Heero interrupted, for now he saw which way Duo's thoughts were going. "Their fear makes them think of themselves alone. But I am king, and I must think of all."

"It is a wise king who thinks so," agreed the vizier.

Heero gave a snort. "So you agree! I should have known. Very well. I will tell my people what is in my mind, for to me this course seems right and just. But I shall not do so alone. Let us stand together upon the balcony, Duo, that all may look upon you when I proclaim that you are to live as long as your story does."

"As the king commands," Duo said, and he moved to his king's side and was surprised to feel his hand gently guiding him, settling to hold his own hand a few moments later.

And Heero told his people what had taken place the night before. That Duo had begun to tell him a story of such wondrous deeds, he could not bear to end his life until the tale was over. For as long as Duo's story lasted, so would his life.

Upon hearing this news, the people wept with amazement and joy. For, in showing such mercy, it seemed to them that the king they had so loved had returned to them once more. And they laid this miracle at Duo's feet. So they shouted all together with one great voice, "_Long live Lord Duo_!"

But even though they lifted their voices as high as the rest, the former queen's brothers looked at one another in triumph out of the corners of their eyes. For it seemed to them that Heero had just put a weapon into their hands – one they had never expected to find there.

The king had a weakness, and his name was Duo.

TBC 

------------------------

**A/N:**

Ehehehehe… I seem to make too many cliffies in this fic. Gomen. I'm gonna get to work on the next chapter as soon as I can. Gah. Summer classes are EVIL. CIs are hellspawn. But duties are great – if one doesn't mind standing for 6 straight hours or so, taking care of postpartum patients.

Reviews will be very much appreciated. Hugs too. Ja!


	14. Chapter 13

04/22/06; 1:45 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. Heh. Here's the next installment. Hope you like! I solemnly thank Pandora-chan for beta-ing this chappie. (proceeds to glomp said beta reader for her barrage of reviews)

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 13: _Duo Resumes His Tale_

"Now," said Duo that night, "where was I?"

"I know! I know!" Quatre cried. "You were telling about the king, and how he was well and truly…"

"Quatre," Duo interrupted with a laugh, laying a hand on his younger brother's head, for Quatre sat at his feet just as he had the night before. "Remember that this is not your story, but Heero's."

At Duo's words, Quatre caught his breath. How could he have forgotten himself so? His relief that his brother had been spared, his delight that Duo's plan seemed to be working had driven every other thought from Quatre's young mind. It had even made him forget his awe of Heero.

_I cannot afford to forget, _he thought. _Not while he holds Duo's life so tightly in his hands._

He hung his head, blonde locks shading his sorrowful eyes. "I beg your pardon, my lord."

"I wish you wouldn't," Heero said easily from where he stood near the trunk, offering the boy a slight smile that he did not see. Never guessing what was in Quatre's thoughts, knowing only that he was secretly delighted that the boy was as interested in the story as he himself was. "To tell you the truth, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who is so eager."

At his words, Quatre's head shot up and his face lit up in a surprised smile. Heero smiled back. _This is how it should be, _he thought. _Comfortable. Like a family. _And suddenly his whole body was flooded with so many different sensations that he could make no sense of any of them, and he sat down upon the lid of the trunk.

"My lord!" Quatre cried in alarm. "Are you all right?"

"I think so," Heero replied, though the truth was he was far from certain. When had the room grown so warm? "It's – perhaps a glass of something cool to drink?"

"Quatre," Duo said, inclining his head. "Ring for a servant, and have him bring His Majesty a cup of water from the deepest well."

Quatre did as his brother instructed while Heero sat motionless upon Helena the Storyteller's ebony trunk, a great tingling filling all his limbs, but most particularly the region of his heart. The room around him began to shimmer, and suddenly it seemed to Heero that he could see his future unfurling like a great silk ribbon before him.

He blinked, for his eyes were all but blinded by the vision's textures, its richness, and its color. The life he suddenly envisioned blazed with possibilities, and the greatest one of all was the one he least expected: the possibility for love.

But as yet this chance was nothing more than a bright glimmer in the distance. To reach it, Heero perceived that he would have to pass through places where he could not see his way straight, if at all. Places where the road was filled with traps and shadows. With a thousand nameless, faceless, unguessed-at things that could deprive him of the love for which he suddenly so longed. And just the thought of these dangers twisted like knives in his heart.

For the first time, he began to understand just what he had made of himself in his high tower. For the first time he began to perceive just how terrible it would be to live a life that was truly without love. Worse than terrible – it would be impossible.

Then Duo spoke, and the vision wavered and vanished.

"Here is some cool water, my lord."

Heero blinked again and saw Quatre's concerned face bending over him. "Thank you," he said. And he took the cup and drained it in one long swallow. "Now," he went on, rising to his feet and tossing his cup to the young serving boy hovering in the background, "let us have our story."

And so saying, he knelt and opened the trunk. The cloth came to his hand as if it had been waiting for him. He took it out and brought it once more to Duo. And as he placed it in Duo's hands, he thought he heard the other man sigh. Heero took up his same place among the cushions. Quatre curled at his brother's feet as he had the night before.

"Now, let me see," Duo said as his fingers roamed the cloth. "Oh, yes. The king was well and truly…"

_Lost_, Heero thought.

---------------

"_Lost. _Or so he feared when he realized he had been walking for as long as he could remember, yet seemed no closer to reaching the stream at the bottom of the mountain than he was when he had left the seer and started out. And in all that time, the sun had neither risen nor set, but the king had walked through a pearl-colored twilight.

"Without warning, the words of the seer came back to haunt him. Had she not said his way would be both hard and long? So great did the king's fear become when he remembered this, he came to a complete stop, and for many moments was unable to go on.

"_Oh, get a hold of yourself, _he commanded himself finally. _Stop acting like a baby and start acting like the king you are. You can't really be lost. You're still on the mountain, after all._

"Besides, the seer had not said that his way would be long and hard no matter what. It would be so only if he saw his desire and claimed it not. The king still considered this possibility highly unlikely.

"_Remember you are in a place of enchantment, _he reminded himself. And at this, he grew incensed at the unfairness of it all. How were mere mortals supposed to find their way when those who were more than mortal made all the rules but would not reveal what they were ahead of time?

"As a king, he could not approve of such a thing. And so, by degrees, instead of allowing his fear to make him humble and careful, the king worked himself up to a fit of righteous indignation. And because of this, he lost his caution as thoroughly as he had lost his way.

"'I want off of this mountain,' he declared. 'I don't care how.'

"Now I will share with you a thing that Helena once shared with me," Duo confided to his brother and mate, his voice melodic and low. "And that is that you should always think at least twice before you speak your innermost thoughts aloud. And more than twice in a place of enchantment where things may have ears that do not in the day-to-day world.

"And if things that do not usually have ears suddenly posses them, it may be that they have mouths and tongues and wills also. And if they have these things, who knows what they can do?"

"Thus the king soon discovered when he heard a voice declare, 'Let me help you.'

"At this, the king was so startled that he lost his footing, tumbled to the ground, and began to roll. Down, down, down the mountain he went, taking quantities of earth and rocks with him as he tumbled along. Just as he was sure his very bones would be crushed within him, the miracle occurred.

"_Thump!_

"With a great crash, the king collided with something. A thing that made a grunt and a cry. He was no longer rolling, and for that the king was grateful. But he was also cross, for the think that had stopped him was trading on his beard, which suddenly seemed much longer than the king recalled. No sooner had it ceased to tread on his beard than it pulled at his hair, which brought tears to his eyes. And so, instead of speaking in gratitude, the king spoke sharply.

"'Stop that! Why don't you watch where you're going, you great oaf?'

"Now, I'm sure you will agree that this was hardly the way to speak to another person, for so this thing turned out to be. Particularly a young man whose strong and sturdy body may have just prevented yours from rolling right off the side of a mountain. But by now the king was feeling altogether thwarted, tricked, and vexed that he no longer cared how he sounded.

"'What are you doing here?' he demanded crossly as he got to his feet and did his best to dust himself off. 'How dare you bump and bruise me? Don't you care who I am at all?'

"'Not in the least,' the young man said. 'Why should I? I am on a great quest to find my long-lost father. I was doing fine until you came tumbling down upon me. A thing which probably saved your life, by the way. You might try being a little nicer.'

"'I most certainly will not!' roared the king. 'The least you could have done was to notice me coming and get out of the way.'

"'If I _had _noticed you, I would have,' the young man roared back, 'but you came from out of nowhere.' All of a sudden, his eyes narrowed. 'Perhaps that was your intention,' he said. 'Perhaps you rolled into me on purpose to thwart me in my quest.'

"'Oh, don't be so ridiculous,' the king snapped. 'I've never met your father, and if you're the best he can do for a son, I'm not surprised that you haven't either. He probably ran away from you. All I'm trying to do is to get off this mountain.'

"At this, the young man pointed downhill. 'Try going that way,' he said.

"'I _know _that!' the king shouted. 'What do you take me for, a total idiot?'

"'No, only a rued, insensitive boor who rolls into people and then yells at them for no reason,' the young man shouted right back.

"At this, the king lost his temper so completely he did a thing which, had he been himself, would have shamed him deeply. He picked up a stone, intending to bring it crashing down upon the young man's head. But no sooner had he raised it high than to his complete and utter astonishment, the stone spoke and said, 'You wish is my command.'

"The young man gave a yelp and jumped back. As for the king, he was so amazed, he almost dropped the stone right on his foot.

"'Did you say something?' the king asked.

"The young man gaped, his mouth wide open, his eyes as big and round as two full moons.

"'Of course I did,' the stone replied. 'I said, your wish is my command.'

"'Wait a minute, what wish? I didn't make any wish,' the king sputtered.

"'Oh, yes, you did,' the stone said. 'I'd hold on tight, if I were you.'

"With that, the king was lifted high into the air. Up, up, up they went, until the young man was just an astonished speck on the ground below them.

"'This can't be happening!' the king gasped.

"'Don't be so ridiculous,' the stone answered in exactly the same tone of voice the king had used just a few moments earlier. 'Of course it can. How many stories have you heard about carpets flying? Carpets! Hah! Have you ever heard of anything so stupid? How anyone ever came up with that idea, I can't possibly imagine.'

"'At least if you were a carpet, I could sit down,' the king said. For, truth to tell, his arm was starting to get a little tired.

"'Oh well,' the stone replied, its tone disgustingly cheerful. 'At least now we're on our way.'

"'On our way _where_?' the king wailed.

"'Well how on earth should I know?' the stone asked, its tone beginning to get a little testy. 'You were the one who wished to get off the mountain. You wished for it twice, in fact. You never said where you wished to end up. Don't blame me for your lack of foresight.'

"'How can these things be?' the king asked.

"'Oh that is simple enough. I am enchanted.'

"'I was afraid you were going to say that.'

"'Watch out,' the stone suddenly advised. 'Flock of birds ahead. This could get a little tricky.'

"The king closed his eyes and held on for dear life. _Oh, dear, oh dear, _he moaned to himself as he heard the flutter of hundreds of wings around his head. How had such a thing come to pass? He was really just an everyday king with an everyday wish. All he wanted was a son. Was that too much to ask?

"_Squawk!_

"In sudden horror, the king opened his eyes just in time to see the last bird of the flock coming straight for him, its claws outstretched. Another moment, and it would peck his eyes out for sure. With a great cry, the king let go of the stone and covered his face with his hands.

"'I really don't think you should have done that,' he heard the stone say. But by then it was too late. As swiftly as he had risen, the king began to fall, and it seemed to him that the earth rose up to meet him at an alarming rate. Try as he might, the king could see no other outcome but that his life must end.

"'Alas, alas!' he cried aloud. 'I wish I had not died before I had the chance – '"

---------------------

But here, as before, Duo's voice was stilled by the crowing of the first cock of the morning. His tale ended, still unfinished after a second night. And Heero discovered he was glad that this was so.

"Surely this king must be the most foolish man alive," he commented. "For he is so busy wishing for something that he cannot see when it is right in front of him."

"Fortunate for him, then," Duo said, "that he lives only in a story."

At these words Heero snorted. He took the cloth from Duo and tucked it safely back inside the trunk. As he did so, Quatre yawned, stretched, and sat up. When he realized that it was day, he drew in a swift breath and glanced fearfully up at Duo.

"Do not fear," Heero spoke up. "Your brother's story is not yet ended." Quatre gave a sigh. "You should return to your father's quarters and sleep in your own bed, little one," the king went on. "For I fear that you are very tired, and your brother is also."

So the brothers embraced. But when Quatre moved toward the door, he stopped short and gave a loud cry. At this, the chamberlain burst in through the door, then promptly tripped over a figure sprawled just inside. For many moments, all was pandemonium. When at last order was restored, Quatre knelt on the floor, his arms wrapped around a serving lad not much older than he was while the chamberlain stood above them, his expression fierce and his sword drawn.

"Move aside, young sir," he commanded.

"I will not!" cried Quatre, his young features resolute. "Can you not see he is just a boy?"

"No matter," the chamberlain answered. "He is where he should not be, and must suffer the consequences."

"_Enough!_" cried Heero. He moved to stand beside Quatre and the boy. "We will not make war on children, chamberlain. Put up your sword."

"But… Your Majesty…," the chamberlain sputtered.

"Do as I say!" roared Heero.

The chamberlain sheathed his sword. At this, Quatre scrambled to his feet, pulling the servant boy along with him, and sought shelter for them both in his brother's arms.

"Now then," Heero said. "Let us see if we cannot get to the bottom of this great confusion." He knelt down so that he and the boy were face to face, a thing that made the chamberlain take a step forward in alarm. "Suppose you tell us who you are and what you are doing here, boy."

Serving lad and king regarded one another for a moment. _So close, _the young boy thought. So close, yet there was nothing to be done. No way to exact the revenge for which he and his brothers longed. He had no weapon of any kind, not even a pin to poke this King Heero in one inquiring cobalt eye. He had only an empty cup.

_And my wits_, he thought. If ever he had need to use them well, now was surely the time.

"I did but bring the water as I was commanded, my lord," he said, and he held out his empty cup.

"Ah, the water," Heero exclaimed, as he stood up. "I remember now. I did call for water. But surely that was last night. How do you come to still be here this morning?"

At this, the boy began to squirm as if confused, though, in fact, his thoughts were racing and he squirmed to buy himself some extra time. A thought had suddenly blossomed in his brain. Perhaps he had a weapon after all.

"If you please," he said, his tone obsequious. "I meant no harm. I only wanted to hear the story, to hear for myself if what they say is true or no."

"What do they say?" asked Duo gently, speaking to him for the first time. He could feel Duo's voice vibrate against his body, and realized he still stood protected by the circle of his arms. At this, he gave a little wriggle and Duo released him with an unseen grin. He snuck a quick glance at Duo's face as he answered, "Why, that there must be magic in it, of course."

"Magic!" exclaimed Heero. "Why should that be?"

"Because the king did not do as he proclaimed, and all for the sake of a story," the boy replied. "What else but magic could make a true king go back on his own word?"

At this, the chamberlain hissed, "Silence, you impertinent ruffian."

"Leave him be," Heero commanded. He took a turn about the room, his expression thoughtful. "Tell me, young fellow," he said at last. "May not a king simply change his mind?"

"But – ," the boy said, then broke off.

"It's all right," Heero said. "Go on."

"Surely a king must be strong," the boy said. "What he commands must come to pass, for his word is law. Who will respect him if he's always changing his mind?"

"But what if in changing his mind, he rights a great wrong?"

Without hesitation, the boy shook his head from side to side, his strange bangs hiding first the right half of his face, then the left. "That could never happen," he said boldly. "What a king proclaims is right to begin with, or he is no true king at all."

At this, Heero's eyes became opaque and expressionless. "Do you think so? I perceive that your mind is a sharp one, at any rate. Too sharp to be a … what?"

"A kitchen boy," the lad said, and he hung his head as if in shame, though in fact it was to hide his expression of triumph. Though he had used no weapon but words, nevertheless he thought that he had struck a blow.

"What is your name?" Heero asked. "Do I not know you?" There was something about the lad's face that grew in his mind the longer he looked upon him.

"I am called Trowa," answered the boy softly, but to the second question he gave no reply. For Trowa was his true name. He and his brothers considered giving him a new one, but the second brother had decided against it at the last moment. It would be one more thing that might cause confusion and send their plans awry.

"Well, Trowa," said Heero. "As of this moment, you are a kitchen boy no longer. Since you show such an aptitude for politics, I will place you in the household of my vizier so that you may learn from him whether your notions of what makes a king true or no. Do honor the lord Quatre, his son, for without his protection you might have come to harm."

At this, the boy turned to where Quatre stood beside his brother and made a bow. "I will honor both the vizier's sons to the best of my ability," he vowed.

"Well spoken," said Heero with a small smile.

In this way did Heero take a stranger into the bosom of his family. Though whether this would turn out well or ill, not even Trowa himself could know.

TBC 

------------------------

**A/N:**

Heh. I love evil Trowa. I hope you guys do too. I just hope you'd be interested enough to hang on 'till the next chaps... I dunno when I'll be able to update again. Wah! But as I've said countless times now, I WILL finish this fic so I could move on to that 3x4 fic. Eheh. Ja!

P.S. Tatsu Satsuki: YOU ARE MY 100TH REVIEWER! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! (kowtows)

to: phoenixfirekitsune - err, Ehehehe... I'll write the next chap as soon as I can. As for the 3x4, well, it'll be a long time coming. But it's _there_. Don't worry. (huggles)

to: bb - Hehe. The plot thickens indeed. I hope you like this new chappie!

Reviews (or hugs)are as always (and always will be) appreciated.


	15. Chapter 14

05/27/06; 6:45 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. I am so sorry for the one-month gap in updating. Gah. The last few weeks have been HELL and now, I am not sure that I could pass my summer classes. Finals week was downright horrible and I have a one-week break before the final verdict. God help me.

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 14: _The Calm Before the Storm_

And now there came a time when the days and nights flowed into one another like the great silk ribbon in Heero's vision. Nights when Duo spun out his tale, his voice falling silent only with the first cock crow of the morning.

Nights when the lamplight glowed softly over his hair and skin, and Heero discovered he wanted no world other than the sound of his voice. Nights when the scent of jasmine wafted in through the open window and Duo found himself happier than he had been since his mother died. His mouth filled with tales, his brother and young Trowa curled at his feet, and his heart full of wonder for what was coming to blossom there for Heero.

For, in his mate's company in the long, quiet hours between darkness and dawn, Duo began to feel a thing he had not expected: Perhaps, at last, he had found the place where he belonged.

But even though the feelings grew with each day that passed, neither Heero nor Duo spoke them aloud. Each was uncertain how to put what their hearts felt into words, and so they waited for the heart of the other to reveal itself.

Each day, the king sent a herald to announce to the people that he would spare his consort for one day longer, and the whole kingdom rejoiced. But, as the days wore on and began to blend together like drops of rain streaming down a leaf, fewer and fewer people came to hear Duo's life proclaimed in the palace courtyard. Finally the day came when none appeared at all. For people had ceased to wonder whether the royal consort might live, but came to take it for granted that he would do so.

And thus it came to pass that the only ones for whom Duo's life continued to be a wonder were those whom it most closely concerned: Omar, the vizier, his father. Quatre, his brother. Heero, the king, his consort. Duo himself. And also young Trowa, who had once been a prince in his own right, though this was a thing that those around him still did not know.

Then during the peace and quiet of these days a rumor began. Though it came to roost in many ears, then flew from many mouths, nonce could say for sure just how it started. For that is the way of such things, both their weakness and their power.

And the rumor all heard, then spoke, was this: The reason Heero prolonged the life of Duo, his consort, was not that he was gracious and beneficent (though, the fact that he was both these things was surely so). No! the reason King Heero spared the life of Duo his consort was because, with his stories, he had woven a great enchantment around him. In short, the king was bewitched.

A very dangerous situation indeed. One that could not be allowed to go on.

It was the king's own chamberlain who added these final words himself. For no sooner had the rumor found a place first in his ears, then in his mouth, than it found its way into his heart and made itself a home. Long had the chamberlain nursed a grudge against the vizier, Omar had been honored by two kings in succession, and it seemed to the chamberlain that he himself had yet to be honored or even appreciated by just one.

The honors bestowed upon the vizier left none for him, or so the chamberlain had always thought. And furthermore, he thought that it was unjust that this was so. For was he not charged with at least as important a duty as the vizier who, as a councilor, did little more than talk when all was said and done? The chamberlain was charged with guarding the life of the king, even at the cost of his own.

How had it come to pass, then, that the vizier should be honored and the chamberlain ignored? Never had the chamberlain been able to answer this question, for never once had he perceived that it was due to a lack within himself. And so he had failed to place the blame where it belonged – at his own door. But with each passing day the king continued to spare Duo's life, the chamberlain began to perceive an important truth: His misfortune, as well as the king's, had the same cause. And that cause was none other than the vizier himself, and his son, Duo.

For the more the chamberlain thought about it, the more certain he became that the vizier and his son were plotting together. It only made sense, after all. What father would consent to put forward his own child to be wed to the king, knowing he must die? Even the vizier could not be so unnatural, or so the chamberlain surmised.

Surely that left just one explanation: The vizier and his son were plotting together to overthrow King Heero.

First, they would weaken his mind with magic. Indeed, this had already begun. For there must be sorcery at work in Duo's stories. Had they not caused the king to repudiate what he himself had proclaimed must be so? What else did Duo's stori3es do but prolong his own life by holding the king in thrall?

And the longer he lived, the greater the danger to Heero must be, for the more potent his sorcery over the king would become.

When the brothers of the former queen heard this (for of course it was they who had started the rumors in the first place), they could hardly contain their secret delight. For now their rumors were impossible to separate from those of the chamberlain, and the claim that Duo and his father had bewitched the king came to roost in every ear, then flew from every mouth until the whole of Heero's kingdom rang with the sound.

And from there it was but a simple step to the one the brothers hoped would give them their revenge. And so they took the gift the chamberlain had unknowingly bestowed upon them and to it added one final touch.

Soon all began to whisper that if Heero could not show himself stronger than his mate's enchantment by putting him to death, it would be proof that Duo's magic ruled his mind. In which case, Heero would no longer be a true king and could not be considered fit to govern.

And so, by degrees. Though neither of them could remember from whose mouth they first had heard it, the rumors reached Duo and Heero. But from there they went no further, for neither could bring themselves to speak of it to the other. And in this way did doubt begin to could the bright things that had been growing in their hearts.

When Duo learned what the people were saying, his first thoughts were not for himself, but for his father and for Heero. For, like his mother before him, Duo recognized that the love of the people was a thing that he had never truly possessed. He had only provoked their curiosity.

And now, it seemed, their fear. And so Duo knew fear also. For in his quest to save the heart of the king he had two main allies: time and his skill as a storyteller. So tightly were these two woven together that disaster must surely follow if they were unraveled from each other before the proper moment. But when that moment would come, Duo could not know. He knew only that it had not yet arrived.

And so he trembled as he stood in a pool of bright sunshine, for the very first time finding no joy in the coming of the morning. His blind eyes were turned toward a window although they gazed only inward, and still he saw nothing. He trembled for the things already said as well as for the things he might not now have time to say. Things he had not known that he would long for. For, in his desire to save Heero's heart, he had forgotten that he must also contend for his own.

And it was in this fearful state of mind that Heero found Duo.

He had heard the rumors just that morning. Though his first reaction had been rage, it did not tale long for fear to creep into his heart just as it had into Duo's. suddenly he remembered the words of the boy, Trowa, who had proclaimed there must be magic in Duo's story. And if even he could perceive this possibility, being but a child…

But whereas Duo's fear had been a path that carried him straight to his husband's and father's doors, Heero's fear was like a great jewel that sparkles in the light. Sharp-edged, and so multifaceted as to be all but blinding.

Everywhere his fear compelled him to look, it seemed Heero saw his own reflection. Each one the face of a man who had made a different decision in his time of greatest crisis. But which face was his true reflection, which deed should be his true act, these things Heero could not see, for his own face blinded him.

And so, in this fear, Duo and Heero increased their own danger, though they did not do so knowingly. For, each in his own way, both looked in the wrong direction: not inward, but outward. In the moment when they most needed to recall it, both forgot the first queen's prophecy.

Only by knowing what was in their hearts and being unafraid to have it known could all be made right once more. And so the final chapters in the story, which they were weaving together themselves, came to be set in motion.

When Heero entered his quarters and saw Duo standing before the window, he felt himself struck by so many different emotions that he could do nothing but stand and behold him.

_What is he thinking? _he wondered. Did he know of the rumors that filled the land? The ones that proclaimed him a sorcerer and called for his death? If he did, would he even tell him?

For it came to Heero suddenly as he gazed upon his mate that he was still almost completely a mystery to him in spite of the way of the way his voice had found a home inside him. His voice, yes. That he thought he knew. But his mind, his heart, those things were still unknown and were as deep and fathomless as any well. And just as vital to his life as water, or so Heero was coming to suspect.

_What does Duo truly contain? _he wondered. Was he pure, as he had originally perceived him to be? Or was he tainted, as the rumors now insisted he must be? For in this uncertainty, more than anything else, did Heero's fear distract and blind him. And so he turned to the wrong place to find the answers to his questions: Not to his own heart, or even to their hearts together, but to Duo's heart alone.

_If only he would reveal himself to me, all would be well, _he thought, never stopping to remember that to reveal one's heart alone is a difficult thing, perhaps the most difficult thing of all.

So, though he had come to his quarters with some vague notion of telling Duo what he had learned so he could weigh his reaction to it, when Heero opened his mouth to speak, no word of the rumors came out. Instead he said, "What do you see when you gaze out the window, Duo?"

At the sound of his husband's voice, a ripple passed through Duo. For the first time since they had been wed, he had not sensed his presence the moment he entered the room, so far away from the place his body was he had traveled in his thoughts. His journey had not been a pleasant one. Never had he felt so blind.

"I do not see," he said. "Instead I… wonder."

"What do you wonder?" asked Heero.

Duo was silent for a moment, as if framing his reply. "Whether the great world outside is as I remember it," he said at last. "I have not been outside the palace since I was a child."

At this, it seemed to Heero that his fear and confusion vanished, and he saw his way clear once more.

"Come with me," he said on impulse, and he moved to Duo's side and took him by the hand. "Let us go out together."

At his words, Duo felt his heart give a great leap, even as his words faltered. "But… the people – "

_Ah! _Heero thought. _So he knows. _But it mattered less than he had thought it did.

"Let us not worry about them," he said. "Just for a little while. I am tired of seeing you only in the lamplight. Come with me into the sunlight, Duo."

And Duo answered steadily, though Heero could feel the way his fingers trembled in his.

"I would like to feel the sun upon my face with you beside me."

Heero raised Duo's hand, pressed his lips against his pals and felt the way his trembling spread throughout his body.

"Come, then. Let us go."

TBC

A/N:


	16. Chapter 15

06/01/06; 4:30 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. I'm in a roll, people! Heh.

Thanks a LOT to: Fantasy or Reality, cherry fantasy, Maskelle, Hikaru, Star Rime, Pandora-chan (beloved Beta!), and phoenixfirekitsune. I'm SO sorry for not replying to your review individually. Gomen! (bos repeatedly) Your wonderful, wonderful reviews are SO appreciated! I hope you enjoy this next chappie!

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 15: _A Sunlight Story_

And so Heero and Duo left the palace. They took no retainers, wore no fine robes. They did not even pause to tell the vizier that they were going. Indeed, Heero sent the vizier on an errand that would keep him busy until after nightfall. In this way, he hoped he and Duo might leave the palace and return again with no one the wiser. He did not intend deception in this, merely to travel as another man might. For this one day, if no day else, to leave the cares of the government behind him.

So he wrapped Duo in a cloak from head to foot, wary of the alabaster skin that had not been under the sun's rays for so long, helped him up on his horse, then vaulted up behind him. Duo leaned back against his husband's body. Heero stretched his arms around on either side of the other man to hold the reins. Both remained silent. In this way, they passed through the least impressive of the palace gates and, at length, through the gates of Heero's city itself and out into the desert beyond. Unremarked upon, unheralded, unnoticed.

"Where are you taking me?" Duo inquired as he snuggled into his husband's embrace.

Heero laughed suddenly, surprising them both.

"I am not going to tell you. Let the tale of this journey be as much a mystery to you as the tales you spin are to me."

"As the king commands," answered Duo with a small grin, his tone as light as Heero's own. "Meantime, with your permission, I will enjoy the wind in my hair."

"Gladly," said Heero, secretly delighted to finally be able to see the chestnut locks freed from its confining braid.

So Duo shook back his cloak, untied the leather cord holding his braid,and Heero spurred the horse forward till they flew along the sand, Duo's long, glistening hair like banners in the wind around them. How long they traveled he never knew, for it was a thing he had ceased to care about. He cared only about the warmth of the sun on his face, the breath of the wind through his hair. The rhythm of the horse as its strides came together and apart, together and apart. And, always, the feel of Heero's arms around him.

After some time, Duo heard him speak to the horse, and the pace of their travel slowed, then came to a halt, and his hair settled down to frame his beautiful face.

"This is the place," Heero said with a tremor in his voice.

Duo took a deep breath. "Do I smell water?"

Heero smiled as he slid from the horse, then lifted his husband down. Though Duo was steady on his feet, Heero kept one arm about his mate's shoulders, for he had suddenly discovered how empty his arms could feel without Duo inside them.

"You do," Heero replied. Gently, he began to lead his mate across the sand to where a stand of date palms created a small oasis of shade. "My father brought Treize and I here when we were but boys. We should always know how to find water in the desert, he said. So that when we grew to be the men he would be proud of, we might never forget its importance to our subjects."

"Your father was wise. My father always told me I should never take anything essential for granted lest I lose it, but now I see it is probably because yours said it first."

Heero chuckled, both surprised and delighted that he did. They settled beneath the trees, Duo with his back against one great trunk. Heero stretched out and laid his head on his husband's lap.

_I am free, _he thought. Though he had not known he had felt confined until this moment. He looked up at Duo, who was sitting with his face tipped up to the sun.

"Duo, will you tell me something?"

He did not reply, but merely nodded.

_Do you fear to lose me? Have I become so essential to you that you will treasure me always and never take me for granted?_

The words quivered upon his tongue, welled straight up from his heart with a heat that left Heero shaking as if he had a fever. But at the last moment, he found he could not pronounce them.

What did it matter if he thought he suddenly saw and understood his own heart? He still could neither see nor understand Duo's. And in what he could not see lay pain and danger, or so he thought.

And so he did not ask the questions that were in his heart. Never stopping to think that in refusing, he kept his own heart as much a secret to Duo as the other man's was to him. And so both stayed locked up tight, the hopes and needs in them unspoken.

"Will you tell me a story?" he asked instead.

"A story!" exclaimed Duo. "But Helena's trunk is in the palace."

"Can you not find a story in any piece of cloth?" Heero inquired.

"I do not know," Duo answered truthfully. "For I have never tried it. But I suppose it would be possible, for it is the finding of the story that is the true storyteller's art, or so Helena always told me."

"Then we could try it," Heero insisted.

"Yes," Duo acknowledged. "We could try. What piece of cloth would you have me decipher?"

"This one."

On impulse Heero reached out and captured one of Duo's wrists in his hand. With the other he pushed back his sleeve to reveal the small scrap of fabric he had noticed Duo always wore there. Never had he seen his mate without it, not even as he slept. Heero wondered what significance it had for Duo, and also what tale the cloth might hold.

"You wish to know the tale of this?" Duo asked, his tone astonished. His heart began to beat swift as a bird's wing within his chest. What did it mean that Heero had been drawn to the only thing he wore that had come from Helena?

"I do," Heero said softly. "Where did it come from?"

"Helena gave it to me long ago," Duo replied just as softly. "In a time of trial and sorrow. I do not think she intended it as a gift, but I have treasured it always."

"Then if it comes from Helena, surely there must be a tale within it," Heero insisted.

And Duo answered, "I do not know, but since you wish it, I will try to find it."

"Thank you," said Heero with a smile echoing his heart. He sat up, and with careful fingers, untied the piece of cloth from Duo's wrist. But when he spread it out he exclaimed, "But surely this cloth has been stained with blood, Duo!"

"It has been," Duo replied, brows raised. "With mine when I was just a child."

And at his words, a memory came to Heero. Of himself, also a child, concealed within the branches of a pomegranate tree, watching a young Duo's wounds being bound up by his mother as the young boy poured the bitterness and grief from his heart.

"Why would you keep such a thing?" Heero asked, though he thought he knew, for now he remembered what else had happened on that day long ago: The thing that Duo had vowed.

"So that I might remember my own promises to myself," Duo said, firmly, confirming what Heero surmised. "And also, that I might have some token of my mother. These are the tales I have added to this cloth," he went on, as if to forestall any further questions. "Now let us see what was there to start out."

So saying, he stretched out his hand and Heero placed the piece of cloth upon his open palm. Duo ran his fingers back and forth across the old stained piece of silk as if he had never touched it before.

"Ah!" he said at last. "It seems that you are right, my lord. A story may be found anywhere, if one is willing to search for it. The one that I have found here is called…"

TBC 

------------------------

**A/N:**

I am evil. I know. I thank everyone who has reviewed the previous chapter. You are SO good to me people! (huggles)

Gah. This day (June 2) is just horrible. Horrible! I failed in my OPD duty and I'm given a chance to make-up, meaning I have make-up classes next week. Meaning I'm going back to that dreaded ward. Meaning one-on-one sessions with my hatest CI. Oh joy.

Next chap – the sweet moment continues, as well as the storytelling.

If you want to know what happens next, please review?


	17. Chapter 16

06/01/06; 6:15 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. Arigatou Pandora-chan! Good job beta-ing the chaps! Wai! Heh, and the story begins anew.

Thank you so much to my reviewers! (huggles)

I am happy. I am through with the three days of make-up duty at the OPD ward. Here's how happy I am. I bring you - Duo's story...

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 16: _The Tale of the Fisherman, the Prince, and the Water Bearer's Daughter_

"Once, in a land much like our own, there lived a poor water bearer who had but one child, and that was a daughter. His wife had died in giving birth, and since the water bearer was too poor to remarry, father and daughter lived all alone, though they were not lonely. For such was their affection for one another, to them their home seemed always full to overflowing.

"As the years went by, the child grew to be a young woman who possessed rich gifts in spite of her poor estate. And those gifts numbered four and were as follows: her kind heart, her beauty, her bravery, and her honesty.

"One day it happened that the prince of this land, who was something of a ne'er-do-well, interested more in looking like a prince than in acting like one, decided to elude his tutors and have a great adventure in the city which surrounded his palace. But, though he successfully managed to make his escape, it did not take long for him to lose his way once he had done so for he did not know the city at all, being greatly sheltered and having only gone out previously with his servants and retainers to guide him.

"Being lost, he should have stood still and waited to be found. But, being foolish, he did not. Instead he began to wander. And so, after many hours he found himself in a rough portion of the city where things might have ended very badly for him indeed. For in his fine garments, with jewels flashing from almost every finger, it was not long before he was set upon by a band of thieves. They knocked him to the ground and dragged him into a nearby alley.

"But, having secured their prize, the thieves fell to doing what thieves often do, for they have no honor: They quarreled amongst themselves. Some of the band were all for cutting off the young man's fingers – the better to obtain the rich jewels he wore. Others argued that it would be better to truss him up on a spit and suspend him over a pit of hot coals. In this way they could force him to reveal the name of his family and ransom him for more money than they had ever dreamed of.

"The prince has just reached the point where he was considering groveling in a very un-prince-like manner when the thieves were interrupted. The water bearer and his daughter were making their way home and took a shortcut through the alley.

"Now, you might suppose, as the prince has, that a band of thieves would find little to fear from a water bearer who was not as young as he used to be, and his only child who was a daughter. But if you had supposed such a thing, you would have been as mistaken as the prince was, for in that rough place the water bearer's strength was well known and commanded much respect. Had he not spent his life carrying burdens too heavy for others?

"At the sight of the water bearer and his daughter, the thieves fled, leaving the prince alone. At first the prince feared he had met with ruffians much worse than the first, for who else could have put such desperate creatures to flight? But his fears were soon allayed when the water bearer and his daughter treated him with kindness. They took him to their home and tended to his wounds. The prince gazed about him in wonder, for never had he seen such a humble abode. Although it was clean, it had but one room, and that a small one. How could people of such goodness live in such surroundings?

"As the water bearer's daughter bound up his wounds, the prince could not help but notice her loveliness, and thus he spoke to her. 'Tell me how it is that a flower as beautiful as you can flourish in such a harsh and desperate place. Surely you belong in a well-tended garden.'

"'I have grown as I am exactly where I was planted,' she replied. 'Is it not then the cause that I am so because of my surroundings?'

"'You are wise as well as beautiful, I see,' the prince said gallantly.

"'And your mouth is as a honeycomb,' the girl answered honestly. 'What falls from it is sweet, but I fear the taste will not last long.'

"'Not so!' cried the prince, for like a bee, her words had stung him. He was unaccustomed to his flattery failing, and he had wanted to make a good impression upon the water bearer's daughter. 'If you knew my true identity, you would not say such a thing,' he went on, for it seemed to him that she must take him more seriously when she knew who he was.

"'Very well,' the girl said, not yet particularly impressed. 'Who are you?'

"'I am Prince Al' Adin, and when my father dies I shall be king over all this land.'

"Upon hearing this news, the water bearer's daughter fell to her knees in astonishment. And her father, coming into the room just then, dropped his water skins so that their precious contents spilled out upon the floor – a thing he had not done once in all his years.

"Their reactions both pleased and vexed Prince Al' Adin. Certainly it was wonderful to be so admired, but he had not wished to inspire fear. He wanted the water bearer's daughter to look upon him with favor, as he looked upon her.

"'Majesty,' the water bearer gasped. 'We are honored by your presence in our humble home. But this is too rough a place for one so fine as you. Let me send a messenger to the palace at once.'

"And so the prince agreed. But while the water bearer was out finding a boy to run to the palace, the prince plucked the jewel from his little finger and gave it to the water bearer's daughter with these words:

"'If you ever have need of me, bring this and come to the palace.'

"'Sire, I will,' the girl replied, though in her heart she could not imagine when such a time might arise. She was certain she would never see the handsome prince again.

"Now, I probably do not need to tell you (but I will do so anyway, for the story demands it) that things we cannot imagine often have a strange way of happening in spite of us.() And so it was with the water bearer's daughter. Not long after this, on his way home from carrying water to the home of a rich courtier, the water bearer was seized and thrown into prison without a word of explanation. Nothing his daughter could do would secure his release. Indeed, his jailers hinted that he might not be allowed to live much longer. Strong and courageous though she was, the water bearer's daughter was soon close to despair.

"But before she could give way to it completely, she remembered the ring the prince had given her and his words at their parting. So she dressed herself in her finest garments and set out for the palace.

"Now, the distance from the home of a water bearer and his daughter to a prince's palace is a great one. So great, that by the time the water bearer's daughter had traveled it, her finest garments were covered with dust, and the hours allotted for audiences were nearly over. The palace guards took one look at her and turned her away.

"'Come back tomorrow.'

"'But I must see Prince Al' Adin as soon as possible,' the water bearer's daughter cried. 'See! I have this token. If ever I have need of him. he commanded I should bring this to the palace.' And with these words, she produced the ring and held it out.

"At this, the palace guards began to take her more seriously. Not because they believed a words she said, but because they felt sure the ring must have been stolen. They were just on the verge of hauling the water bearer's daughter off to prison too when, to the surprise of all, a court lady who happened to be passing by intervened.

"'Fools!' she exclaimed angrily. 'Can you not see that this girl speaks the truth? Do you not recognize the Prince's mark?'

"And upon close examination, her claim proved to be true. For on the inside of the band, so cunningly placed that only when you gazed into the jewel itself could you see it, was the official mark of Prince Al' Adin. (1)

"At this, the guards began to be afraid that _they _would be the ones thrown into prison, and so they let the water bearer's daughter enter the palace at once. The court lady went so far as to escort her to the audience chamber, the water bearer's daughter expressing her appreciation for the lady's kindness the entire way.

"'Think nothing of it,' the court lady said with a wave of her perfumed hand. 'But remember well this good deed that I have done for you. Perhaps you may do one for me someday.'

"'If ever it is within my power to do you good, I will,' the water bearer's daughter promised. And with that, they reached the audience chamber. Here again the court lady exerted herself on the water bearer's daughter's behalf.

"'Here is one who begs an audience with Prince Al' Adin,' she cried in a loud voice. 'She comes bearing his token. Let her be heard.' With that, she moved forward, bringing the water bearer's daughter with her. And so they came to Prince Al' Adin.

"Glad as he was to see the water bearer's daughter once again, seeing the two women together was not so pleasing to Prince Al' Adin. For the token he had given to one had been a gift to him from the other. In truth, the ring he had bestowed upon the water bearer's daughter had not truly been his to give: It had been a gift to him from the fine court lady who wished to win his favor. In short, the situation had all the makings of a fine muddle.

"Nor was this all, for beneath his handsome countenance and gallant manners, there loved a darkness in the heart of Prince Al' Adin. It was he who was responsible for the water bearer's imprisonment. Until he gave the word, the water bearer would not be released. And all so that the prince could look upon the water bearer's daughter once more, to discover if she was as lovely as he remembered. And to impress upon her that her happiness was in his hands.

"But the water bearer's daughter knew nothing of this. And so she cast herself to the ground before Prince Al' Adin and said, 'Hear me, O great and shining Prince! I come as you have said I might, bearing your token, to beg for your help in my hour of greatest need.'

"The first of the matter that had weighed on Prince Al' Adin's mind was thus easily dispatched. For, even streaked with dust and in despair, the water bearer's daughter was just as lovely as he had at first perceived.

"'What would you have me do?' he asked, pleased to have her acknowledge her need of him so quickly. 'Rise and tell me.'

"So the water bearer's daughter rose to her feet and said, 'My father has been imprisoned for a cause I cannot discover. I fear his life may be forfeit. I beg you to order his release, and spare both his life and my own. For it is not possible that I should live without him.'

"Now, this was not precisely what Prince Al' Adin wished to hear. If she could not live without someone, it should be him. 'Yet surely he must die someday,' he countered.

"'As The Divine One shall will it,' the water bearer's daughter acknowledged. 'But I greatly fear that what has befallen him is, instead, the will of man.'

"'If I might be so bold, Highness,' the court lady spoke up suddenly. 'I may be able to suggest a way to determine whether the imprisonment of this maid's father be just or no.'

"At this, Prince Al' Adin perceived that he was growing more unhappy by the minute, for this interruption was not at all to his liking. It was hardly possible the court lady would have the best interests of the water bearer's daughter at heart. She was more likely to wish some mischief upon her. But Prince Al' Adin had no choice but to listen to what she had to say, for she had caught the attention of his courtiers.

"'Speak,' he commanded.

"'I would propose a test,' the court lady said. 'A trial of some sort. Command this maid to do a thing that all others before her have failed to accomplish. If she succeeds, you will know her cause is just.'

"At her words, a murmuring of appreciation filled the audience chamber, a counterbalance to the dread filling Prince Al' Adin's heart.

"'What might such a task be?' he inquired.

"'Gracious!' the court lady exclaimed with a becoming blush. 'How should I know? Yet I have heard… ' Her voice trailed off, and in spite of himself, Prince Al' Adin leaned forward on his seat of ivory.

"'What?'

"'I have heard of a treasure that rests at the bottom of the ocean,' the court lady went on. 'A treasure so remarkable, only one who possesses both strength of body and purity of heart has even the slightest hope of finding it. Many have tried, but so far, all have failed. Surely this would be a fitting gift to bestow upon a prince to ransom the life of a much-loved father.'

"At these words, the swell of wonder from the courtiers within the audience chamber grew so great that Prince Al' Adin perceived an astonishing thing: His mind was already made up. For to refuse such a remarkable request would be unthinkable. And so he turned back to the water bearer's daughter and said, 'Find this treasure for me. When I hold it in my hand, I will have proof your cause is just and free your father. Not only that, on that day, I will make you my bride. For any who can find such a treasure must surely be a treasure herself and fit to be a prince's consort.'

"And with that, the prince smiled at the court lady. _See what happens to all those who would try to outsmart me, _he thought.

"But the water bearer's daughter hardly noticed the prince's offer to make her his bride. She was too filled with dismay at the task he had set her, for it seemed to her that it was impossible. She had never even seen the ocean, did not even know where it might be found. But she rallied her courage, for she was her father's only hope, and she knew she must be strong. So she bowed low before the prince and said, 'Majesty, may your will be done.'

"With her words, the day's audiences were over, and the water bearer's daughter returned home. There, she changed her finest garments for her most sensible clothes. Into a knapsack she placed a loaf of bread and some dried figs, which was all the food she had in the house. She filled one of her father's water skins and was just on the point of setting out when she heard a knock upon her door. Opening it, she discovered the court lady who had helped her get into the palace.

"'Forgive me,' the court lady said, casting her eyes down modestly. 'But, after you left the audience chamber, I had you followed. I feel responsible for the fact that you must undertake such an arduous quest, for had I not spoken – '

"'You must not blame yourself,' the water bearer's daughter interrupted swiftly. 'I would do anything to save my father.'

"The court lady raised her eyes and gazed into those of the water bearer's daughter as if searching for something. After several moments, she said. 'You truly love him.'

"'With all my heart.'

"'I am sorry for it,' the court lady said, taking them both by surprise, 'For your way must surely be difficult and long. You may fail. Your father may still die.'

"'I will not fail,' the water bearer's daughter vowed. 'But worse than failing is not to try at all. For then there can be no hope of success.'

"At these words, the court lady gestured to the two servants who had accompanied her. 'Then take these, and may success follow.' The servants placed a basket and a roll of parchment at the water bearer's daughter's feet. Then they bowed low, and all three departed.

"Unrolling the parchment, the water bearer's daughter discovered a map like a jigsaw puzzle, showing her own country fit into those around it until, at last, the land ended at a great ocean. The distance between where she would begin, and where she must end was so great, it made her bones ache just to study it. But taking careful note of the direction in which she needed to travel, she rolled the map up again and tucked it into her knapsack, saying to herself, _There is no sense dwelling on what cannot be altered._

"Opening the basket, she discovered a pair of shoes made of iron. They seemed a strange choice for such a long journey, but she supposed they had one virtue: They would not wear out. So she sat down upon the ground, removed her sandals, and slipped her feet into the iron shoes. They were so heavy, she could barely lift her feet to walk. But she said to herself, _I am not afraid to work hard. Has not my father done so all his life? besides, every step I take will bring me closer to the moment he is free once more. _

"And so, shouldering her knapsack, the water bearer's daughter set off."

TBC 

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**A/N:**

Gah. And now I do not know how to continue the story. Eheh.

Heh. My beta pointed out that it was a bit weird for the court lady to have the Prince's mark engraved in the ring. Let's just say that he is like an Uchiha... Uchihas mark _everything _they own. I think. So maybe the lady just had the Prince's mark copied, which isn't really a crime since it wasn't the Prince's seal or something. Or maybe I just made a very grave mistake.

Please, please review! Arigatou!


	18. Chapter 17

06/12/06; 11:05 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. Eheh. Today's a National Holiday. Doesn't matter though. My class starts on June 19. Kill me.

What's up in this chapter? Eheh… romance ensues.

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 17: _How the Water Bearer's Daughter Finds the Fisherman, The Treasure, and Her Heart, and How the Story Finds Its End. In That Order._

"How many days and nights, how the days and nights stretched out to weeks and the weeks to months and maybe even years, is not recorded in the cloth," Duo's voice continued softly. "But this much I can tell you:

"The water bearer's daughter had walked so long, her hair had turned as white as a noonday sky. So far, the heels and toes of her iron shoes were worn clean through so that the sand ran in one end and out the other, before she stood at last upon the shore of a vast and swirling blue-green ocean.

"But, though her heart rejoiced to reach her destination at last, it quailed also. For now that she was here, the water bearer's daughter realized several bitter things all at once: She did not know what form the treasure she was looking for might take, and there was no one she might ask, for she was quite alone. And she had remembered suddenly that she could not swim. How then could she hope to find a treasure at the bottom of the ocean?

"The bitterness of these things struck her with such force, her legs gave way and she fell to her knees, soaking her skirts with ocean foam. And there the water bearer's daughter might finally have given up hope when, through eyes grown dim with tears as salty as the great ocean itself, she beheld a sail dancing upon the horizon. The longer she watched, the larger it became, until she could clearly perceive a small boat with a single occupant.

"_I can at least ask this fisherman, _she thought. So she got to her feet and waited patiently upon the shore. But the longer she waited, the more concerned the water bearer's daughter became. For as she watched and waited, the wind came up and the sky grew crowded with clouds as fierce and dark as any she had seen. Without warning, a great needle of light shot down from the sky. It struck so near the boat, the water bearer's daughter swore she smelled scorched wood. With a shout, the fisherman threw himself overboard.

"The water bearer's daughter never even hesitated. Later, it seemed to her she simply moved, with no conscious thought at all. In spite of the fact that she could not swim a stroke, she kicked off what remained of her iron shoes and waded out into the thrashing water.

"It seethed about her, agitated as the brew of a witch's cauldron. After no more than a few struggling steps, the water bearer's daughter felt her feet slip, then leave the bottom. Still, she never faltered, her determination to save the fisherman as great as her need to save her father.

"One wave struck her. Then another. And another. Until the water bearer's daughter's eyes stung with salt, her mouth choked with seawater. But still, she pushed against the waves with all her might, reaching out through the water. On the fourth wave, she felt something brush against her outstretched hands. Something with fingers that reached to meet hers and clung having found them. Sobbing now, the water bearer's daughter held on with one hand, and with the other, reached back toward the shore.

"Again and again she reached. Each time, the strength of her determination brought the land a little closer. Until at last she felt the earth beneath her feet. A few more steps brought her out of the water. And with her, the fisherman, for it was his hand she held fast in her own. Together, they collapsed to the sand, and as they did so, the storm ended as abruptly as it had begun, and the sun shone down upon them bright and strong.

"'Thank you,' the fisherman said as soon as he was able. 'If not for your courage, my life would have been lost.'

"'Oh surely not,' the water bearer's daughter answered. 'For you are…'

"But here, a strange thing happened. Without warning, a great heaviness seized the water bearer's daughter in all her limbs, as if every step of her long journey had suddenly come to inhabit her body all at the same moment. Her vision darkened until she could not see the fisherman clearly, though he lay beside her. She blinked her eyes once, twice. The third time, her lids stayed closed, and she remembered nothing more.

---------------------

"She awoke to a warm darkness. She pulled in a breath and found the air scented with smoke from a driftwood fire. She stirred and realized she was covered in a scratchy blanket from feet to chin.

"'So you're awake at last,' the voice of the fisherman said. 'That is good, for I feared I might have lost you.'

"'I am not lost,' the water bearer's daughter replied. And with this, she sat up and looked around her.

"She was in a small cottage made of wood, its rook thatched with the reeds that grew out of the great dunes bordering the ocean. There was a hole in the roof, and through it drifted the driftwood smoke. Though another might have considered it small and poor, the water bearer's daughter could see that the cottage had been well kept, much like the home she shared with her father. And so she felt not scornful or afraid to awaken in a place she did not know, but comfortable and at home.

"Over a pot above the fire, the fisherman stirred something that made the water bearer's daughter's mouth water.

"'What are you making?' she inquired.

"'Seaweed soup,' the fisherman answered. 'It will help to make you strong once more.' So saying, he filled a bowl. As he leaned over the fire, its light played over his features, and the water bearer's daughter felt her breath catch as she beheld him clearly for the very first time.

"Never had she seen a man so ugly.

"His face was lined as if creased by the wind, pitted as if scarred by the salt in the seawater. With his gaze downcast, the water bearer's daughter could not see the color of his eyes. His hands were as wide across as one of her legs. But they cradled her bowl of soup as gently as if it were a bird's nest filled with hatchlings.

_"There is kindness in him, _she thought.

"And so, though her heart beat a little faster at his approach, she took the bowl of soup from him without spilling a drop, for her hands did not tremble. And she said to him, 'I thank you for your kindness.'

"At her words, the fisherman started. 'You are the first who has ever seen it,' he said, and he smiled. When he did this, the water bearer's daughter discovered that it was possible to forget his great ugliness, for his kindness was the only thing she saw.

"'Eat your soup,' he said. 'Then, if you are not too weary, tell me how you have come to be in this place, for I think that you are far from home.'

"'I am, indeed,' the water bearer's daughter said, 'though this cottage reminds me of it.'

"At this, though he did not speak, the fisherman smiled once more. The water bearer's daughter ate her soup, then told him of all that had lately befallen her.

"'I have heard of this treasure you seek,' the fisherman said when her tale was done. 'It may be that I can even show you where it lies. But seeking is not the same as finding. Many have come before you, and all have failed.'

"'I will not fail,' the water bearer's daughter answered firmly. 'I will succeed, for I must save my father.'

"'In the morning, we shall see,' the fisherman said. 'Sleep now.' So saying, he took her empty bowl from her, then tucked her in once more. The water bearer's daughter was asleep by the time the blanket reached her chin.

"In the middle of the night, she awoke to find the fire had died down low. The fisherman sat beside it, weaving a great net, his eyes glowing bright as the coals.

----------------------

"In the morning, her strength restored, the water bearer's daughter followed the fisherman down to the water. There they climbed into his boat, and the fisherman plied the oars. Today the sea was as smooth as honey. When they reached a spot in the ocean that looked the same as any other to the water bearer's daughter, the fisherman lifted the oars from the water.

"'The treasure that you seek is down below us. To find it, you must dive to the bottom.'

"Though she had never done such a thing before, the water bearer's daughter rose. 'Then that is what I will do,' she vowed.

"'Keep your head down,' the fisherman advised. 'Reach with your arms for the bottom.'

"'I will, the water bearer's daughter said, and with no more ado, she dove over the side.

"Down, down, down she went, through the water so smooth it felt like silk, always keeping her head aimed downward and reaching with her arms for the bottom. Her heartbeats began to pound in her ears. Then at last, she saw what she was searching for. The sand at the bottom of the ocean was white and pure as milk, but whiter still were the bones resting on top of it.

"_These are the ones who came before me and failed_, the water bearer's daughter thought. Scattered among the bones was a treasure such as she had never dreamed of: Jewels of every size and shape. Gold coins too numerous to count. Surely something here would ransom her father. The question was, what?

"Just when the water bearer's daughter thought her breath would last no longer, she caught a dazzle from the corner of her eye. A ruby, big as her fist, nestled in the right eye socket of a half-buried skull. She snatched it up, then shot toward the surface, breaking through the water at the last possible moment, desperately pulling breath into her lungs. She felt the fisherman reach down and lift her up into the boat.

"'Well?' he said after giving her a chance to catch her breath. 'What have you found?'

"The water bearer's daughter opened her hand to reveal the ruby. To her horror and dismay, the fisherman snatched it from her and heaved it back into the ocean.

"'You will not save your father with that,' he said. 'You must try again tomorrow.'

"With that, he spoke not another word, but rowed them back to shore. That night, much was as it had been the night before. The water bearer's daughter awakened just once, in the dead of night. She saw the fisherman sitting by the fire, weaving a great net by the fireside, his eyes glowing bright as the coals.

---------------------

"Now began a series of days when the exact same thing happened. The fisherman fished while the water bearer's daughter dove. But each time she retrieved what she hoped was the treasure she sought, the fisherman would declare it useless and throw it back into the sea once more.

"As the days passed, the water bearer's daughter grew more and more desperate. The rich jewels adorning the bottom of the ocean began to lose their shine. Though they might be valuable, they were not precious. And within the water bearer's daughter's heart was a growing certainty that the only thing that could ransom her father was a treasure beyond price. But she did not yet see what it was.

"She began staying beneath the waves longer and longer, pushing herself to the limits of her breath before she made her choice. Until finally the day came when she brought up nothing at all. For she had left her choice too late. To choose would be to drown. On that day, after he had lifted her into the boat, the fisherman said nothing at all. But that night, when the water bearer's daughter awoke in the dead of night, the fisherman said, 'Have you ever wondered how all those bones came to be at the bottom of the ocean?"

"'Never,' answered the water bearer's daughter. 'For surely it is obvious. They are the bones of those who tried before me.'

"'Tried and failed,' the fisherman reminded her. 'Do you know why?'

"Before today, the water bearer's daughter might not have had an answer. But now she thought she understood, and so she replied, 'The day came when they could not choose, and so they drowned.'

"'That is so,' the fisherman said with a nod. 'But that is not all. They did not know how to look, trusting only the eyes of the mind. But the treasure you seek will never be found that way.'

"'How, then?' the water bearer's daughter asked.

"'With the eyes of the heart,' the fisherman replied. 'They alone will show you the treasure you seek. If you fail in this, you will suffer the same fate as the others.'

"'I will not fail,' the water bearer's daughter said, just as she had that first morning.

"'We shall see,' the fisherman replied. 'Sleep now. One way or the other, tomorrow will be your last dive.'

-----------------------

"The following morning found the fisherman and the water bearer's daughter in the fisherman's small boat once more. The fisherman fished. The water bearer's daughter dove over the side. But even though she did so again and again, she could find nothing she thought might ransom her father, for now all seemed changed. Nothing looked as it had before.

"Although she had thought all the rest of the night about the fisherman's words, the water bearer's daughter had not been able to find the hidden meaning in them. How did one see with the heart and not the mind? The more times she dove, the more frustrated the water bearer's daughter became. And now, a terrible fear seized her for the very first time.

"She was going to fail, as all the others before her had. Both she and her father would die.

"Late in the day, she lay in the boat, gathering up her breath for one last dive. All through the long hours, the fisherman had remained silent. But he spoke now. 'You should trust yourself more. You already have the gift to see as you need to, you just don't recognize it.'

"'How can I have a gift and not recognize it?' the water bearer's daughter asked, her tone waspish. _And by the way, I tire of you talking in riffles, _she thought. But out of gratitude for all he had done for her, she did not say this aloud.

"'By not understanding it for the gift it is,' the fisherman replied with a smile. Exactly as if he had heard what she had not spoken as well as what she had. 'Now let me ask you something: How did you look upon my face and yet see that one as ugly as I could also be kind?'

"'I don't know, exactly,' the water bearer's daughter said. 'I just looked and saw it.'

"'Then that is what you must do to find the treasure,' the fisherman said.

"'Very well,' the water bearer's daughter answered. 'I will try.'

"'Then it is time for your last dive.'

"The fisherman pulled her to her feet. The water bearer's daughter clasped his hand in hers for just a moment, as if to draw strength from its solidity and size. Then she released it, took one enormous breath, and dove into the ocean.

"Down, down, down she plummeted through the water as blue and sparkling as a sapphire, until she reached the shimmering white sand that lay at the ocean's bottom. There she paused, her long hair moving about her. But this time she did not focus on the jewels. Instead, she did a thing her mind insisted made no sense at all: She closed her eyes.

"She felt her hair shifting around her in the ocean's unseen currents. She saw the way the light, filtered through the layers of water, created a rosy glow against the inside of her eyelids. It even seemed to her she felt the heart of the great ocean itself, opening to enfold her in its liquid embrace.

"And then completely without warning, the face of the fisherman popped into her mind.

"At this, the water bearer's daughter's eyes sprang open, and she knew that she had found the treasure for which she had searched so long and so hard.

"It was a shell, enormous and dark. Encrusted with things whose names she could only guess at. Its scalloped edges looked as sharp as knives. _This shell is like the fisherman_, she thought. For buried deep within it, the water bearer's daughter thought she caught the glimmer of a treasure precious beyond her ability to measure – in spite of its rough and ugly outside.

"With her last ounce of strength, she snatched up the shell, then shot to the surface. The fisherman hauled her into the boat. He waited for her to catch her breath, then asked softly, 'Will you show me what you have found?'

"The water bearer's daughter held out the shell. At the sight of it, the fisherman's great hands trembled, and he shielded his eyes. And it was only in this moment that the water bearer's daughter realized what color they were: the same changeable blue-green as the sea around them.

"'Well done,' the fisherman said. 'For there is more in this than you yet know. But for now it is enough that you have found the thing you came for. Tonight we will sleep, and tomorrow, ransom your father.'

"'But the way is long,' the water bearer's daughter protested. 'It cannot be possible we can ransom him tomorrow.'

"The fisherman took her face between his still-trembling hands. 'Do you trust me?' he asked softly.

"'I trust you,' said the water bearer's daughter.

"'Then believe in me also. For I swear to you that tomorrow your father will be free at last.'

"And the water bearer's daughter's heart was filled with joy. That night, for what she thought would be the very last time, she slept in the fisherman's house. She awoke in the dead of night, as always. The fisherman sat beside the fire, turning the shell over and over in his hands, his eyes glowing as bright as the coals.

"At the sight of this, the water bearer's daughter rose from her bed and went to sit by his side. He wrapped her in his cloak. She rested her head upon his shoulder. There she fell asleep once more. But the fisherman stayed awake all night, for in his head were thoughts that would not let him close his eyes. And so the hours passed until the dawn.

----------------------

"Just as the first hint of light crept into the sky, the fisherman arose, placed the shell upon the breast of the still-sleeping water bearer's daughter, wrapped both more securely in his cloak, picked her up, stepped out his front door, and closed it behind him. For a moment, he simply stood, looking out upon the ocean. Then, with one strong arm, he took up the net upon which he had labored every night since he had first made the cottage by the sea his home, and he turned his back upon the water.

"In a great swinging arc, he cast the net out, not across the sea, but across the land. The net was so vast, it stretched beyond the horizon. Then the fisherman gathered up the net, took one step forward, and cast it again, beyond the next horizon.

"Again and again, the fisherman cast out his great net and gathered it in. cast it out and gathered it in. each time taking one step forward. With each step he took, he brought himself closer to his own destiny and the water bearer's daughter closer to her father. So that by the time she stirred in the fisherman's arms and he set her down, they were but a street away from Prince Al' Adin's palace.

"When the water bearer's daughter realized where they were, her mouth opened and closed like a fish on the shore, a thing that caused the fisherman to smile.

"'Don't worry about the "how" of this yet,' he said. 'For there will be time to explain all things after we have ransomed your father.'

"'There is no way I can ever thank you enough,' the water bearer's daughter said, finally finding her voice.

"The fisherman raised an eyebrow. 'Do you not think so? But that, too, can wait. Come, let us go to the palace.'

"Great was the amazement of the guards when they saw the water bearer's daughter had returned. For after her departure, word of the deed she would attempt had spread until there was no one in the land who did not know of it. But even though all knew of her, none had expected her to return.

"She was shown to Prince Al' Adin's great audience chamber at once, the fisherman trailing along behind her. There the water bearer's daughter was astonished to discover that while for her the time had flown while she accomplished her quest, in the palace of Prince Al' Adin, time had crawled, so that little more than a month had passed since she first set out.

"Though it took him a moment to recognize her, for her feet were bare and covered with sand, and her hair was as white as bone, when the prince realized the water bearer's daughter had returned, great was his joy! His courtiers were struck dumb with wonder, then began to talk all at once. The beautiful court lady fainted dead away and had to be revived. In all the confusion, no one noticed the presence of the fisherman at all. He stood at the back of the audience chamber, watching as the water bearer's daughter moved down its great length alone.

"'Sire,' she said as she knelt before Prince Al' Adin when order had been restored. 'Behold! I have brought you the great treasure you asked for. I place it in your hand, as you bade me. Therefore, I beg you, free my father. Spare his life and mine.'

"'Gladly,' Prince Al' Adin said as he took the shell from her. He was so carried away by seeing the water bearer's daughter again, he hardly noticed what it was that she had brought him. With a wave of his arm, he sent the captain of his guard to free the water bearer. 'Not only that, I will make preparations for our wedding at once.'

"At these words the courtiers began to cheer so loudly, the court lady had to shriek like a banshee to be heard over them, and the water bearer's daughter's mouth fell open. For the truth was she had forgotten all about Prince Al' Adin's pledge to marry her if she was successful. She had thought only of saving her father. But now that he mentioned it, she realized that she had no wish to marry the prince at all. In fact, if she had her choice…

"'I see no great treasure!' the court lady shouted, interrupting both the courtiers' cries and the water bearer's daughter's thoughts. 'I see only a shell such as anyone might find. Spare her father if you will, but do not marry this common girl, my lord. For I fear she lead you on for some purpose of her own.'

"'Nonsense!' Prince Al' Adin shouted back. And at his words, a silence fell while all gazed at the shell the water bearer's daughter had brought. 'Though I must admit you do have a point. I see nothing special in this.'

"_But how can that be? _the water bearer's daughter thought. How could it be that a great prince saw only the surface of a thing, while she, a mere water bearer's daughter saw so much more?

"And then a strange thing happened. For as the water bearer's daughter looked upon Prince Al' Adin, she saw not only his outward form, she saw what was inside him also. She saw the thing that drove his heart. And it was love, this much was true. But not love for her. It was love of power. Love for himself. Together, these were so strong, they left no room for loving anything else.

"Turning her eyes upon the court lady, the water bearer's daughter saw into her heart also. And in it there writhed two snakes twined so tightly together, they appeared as one. And they were desire for Prince Al' Adin, and a will to vanquish any and all who might try to turn this desire aside.

_That explains the iron shoes, _the water bearer's daughter thought.

"And now the water bearer's daughter turned her back upon Prince Al' Adin and looked upon the fisherman, knowing that she saw him with the eyes of her heart for the very first time.

_How could I have ever thought him ugly? _she wondered. For now it seemed to her that he shone as bright and pure as the evening star. From the depths of his heart, her own face smiled back, and she knew in that moment that their hearts were one. Never again was the fisherman anything other than beautiful to her, for never again did she look at him through any other but the eyes of truest love.

"And in this way the water bearer's daughter came to understand that though she had set out to win a treasure for Prince Al' Adin, she had won a treasure even greater for herself.

"And so she turned to the prince and said, 'The treasure I have brought does not reveal itself in outward form. To discover its worth, you must find the way into its heart. You must see what is inside.'

"But Prince Al' Adin did not understand her, and, at her words, he grew annoyed. 'How, exactly do you propose I should do that?' he asked, rattling the shell. 'It is locked up tight, and I fear to open it, for the edges are as sharp as knives.'

"'That is a riddle you must solve for yourself,' the water bearer's daughter said. 'You bade me find the treasure and place it in your hand. This I have done. I can do nothing more.'

"'Tell me, or I'll marry another,' the prince threatened, certain this would bring her around.

"But to the astonishment of all, the water bearer's daughter simply smiled. 'I pray you, do, my lord. And let it be the one who first put the idea of this great treasure into your mind. For is it not she who is most truly responsible for bringing it to you? Without her, I would never have set out.'

"And in this way did she repay the court lady for the kindness she had shown her.

"'You are right!' Prince Al' Adin cried. 'I will marry that lady without delay. And as for you, collect your father and go far from my sight. For a more ungrateful young woman I never have beheld.'

"'It shall be as you say,' the water bearer's daughter promised. And she left the audience chamber, the fisherman at her side. Outside the palace they found the water bearer waiting for them. Great was the happiness of the father and daughter at being reunited! Then the water bearer said to his only child, 'My daughter, who is this who stands so quietly at your side?'

"'This is he who helped me secure your release,' the water bearer's daughter answered. 'And more than that, he is the man I love.'

"'Then I shall love him also,' the water bearer said.

"At these words, the fisherman knelt down before him. 'Once, I was just such a prince as this Al' Adin,' he said. 'Concerned only with outward form and show. In my arrogance, I once did a powerful wizard a great wrong. For this, I was condemned to a life of ugliness and loneliness until the day someone should come to love me not for the looks that had once made me so proud, but for the man I had become inside.

"'Though many have looked, your daughter is the only one who ever looked at me and saw me truly. You have pledged your love for me on her word alone. Will you give me her hand in marriage?'

"'Gladly, if this is what my daughter wishes,' the water bearer said.

"'It is,' she vowed.

"'Then one more choice lies before you,' the fisherman said, as he rose to his feet and took her in his arms. 'Now that the spell is broken, will you have me as I am, or as I was? Will you have a fisherman or a prince to be your husband?'

"'That is no choice at all,' the water bearer's daughter said. 'For surely you are both. But if you are asking if I'd like to live in a palace, the answer is no. let us live in the cottage by the sea.'

"And they did so, and lived in happiness for the rest of their lives. And in this way did the gifts the water bearer's daughter had been born with – her kind heart, her beauty, her bravery, and her honesty – win her treasure precious beyond measure.

"Prince Al' Adin never did figure out how to open the shell, though he tried every day for the rest of his life. Eventually this pursuit consumed him, and he could do nothing else. When she perceived there was no love in her husband's heart for any but himself, the court lady pined away and died. Al' Adin never married again, and upon his demise, his kingdom passed to a lazy and foolish cousin."

------------------------

Duo fell silent. And the only sound that could be heard was the wind as it whispered its way across the sand to murmur among the branches of the date palms.

"Do you know that is the first time I have ever heard you finish a story?" asked Heero.

It was a thing Duo knew well, in fact, though he wasn't about to reveal this.

"So it is," he replied with mysterious smile.

"And another thing," said Heero. "Why is it that the kings and princes in the stories you tell are such great idiots while thecommoners are so wise?"

At this, Duo gave a chuckle. "Is it truly so? I had not noticed."

Heero snorted. "But you are no commoner yourself. Nevertheless, it was a long story for such a small piece of cloth. It grows late. I suppose that we should go."

"Yes, I suppose we should," Duo agreed. But for a moment, neither of them moved. Heero lay with his head in Duo's lap. No longer needing his fingers to read the cloth, Duo combed them through Heero's hair. A great silence seemed to settle over them – as if they had been contained within a bell jar.

And in this silence, Heero suddenly sat up and gathered Duo into the circle of his arms.

"Who am I? I want to hear you say it."

And Duo answered, "Heero."

At this, Heero's heart gave a great leap, for his consort had not said that he was king. He had said his name, and that was all.

"Duo," he whispered almost reverently. Then Heero's lips found Duo's, and neither spoke aloud at all. Gently, Heero touched his lips with his own, feeling them part, only for him. His heart raced in his chest, happiness bursting forth and pouring out into Duo. Only for Duo. He felt the fingers in his hair grip tightly, possessively, bringing him closer. _This _was what he wanted. What he longed for so long. But he shouldn't be thinking right now. Not when his husband insisted on distracting him like _this_. And for a long time, all he felt was bliss.

The wind returned, and the scrap of cloth his mother had used to bind his wounds so long ago blew from Duo's lap and went racing away across the sand. But neither he nor Heero noticed.

When at last the kiss had ended, Heero said, "Now I think I understand."

Duo put his head upon his husband's shoulder, still dazed. "Understand what?"

"Why the kings and princes in your stories are such great idiots."

"And why is that?"

"Because everything about them is greater than that of other men. Another would have kissed you long ago. That person would not have waited so long to satisfy the longing in his heart."

At these words, Duo's own heart began to pound like thunder. "And how long has your heart longed to kiss me?"

"Since the first day we were wed. How long had yours longed to kiss me?"

"Since that same day," Duo acknowledged with an ever-widening grin.

"I am glad to hear it," Heero answered with a smile Duo could hear in his voice. "For it makes you just a great an idiot as I am."

Duo laughed. And so Heero opened his mouth to ask one thing more:

_Does this mean that you have come to love me, Duo?_

But the words were never spoken, for suddenly a night bird called. At this, Heero perceived how late it was. While Duo had told his tale, time had seemed to hang like a great golden ball tossed high into the air. But now that he had finished, it swiftly came back down. The sun had already begun to slip below the horizon. Soon it would be dark, and in the darkness, dangerous things could lurk, even in a country such as Heero's.

"Come," he said. "We must go. It is later than I thought."

So together they rose, and Heero put Duo before him on his horse just as before. But this time, Duo turned so that one of his arms was around Heero's back, and so each held the other as they rode. Duo fell asleep with the wind flowing over him like silk and his husband's heart beating against his ear like a brass gong.

And in this way they rode back to the palace as the night settled over them like a great dark cloaked stitched with silver stars.

TBC

A/N:

What's up next chapter? Trouble in paradise! (gasps)

I thank everyone who has reviewed me so far. You are the driving force for this fic. There is never a chapter where at least one of you clamors for the next chapter. Geez. Thanks to the people who put this story in their C2! (huggles)


	19. Chapter 18

06/14/06; 6:35 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. Characters ain't mine. Plot ain't mine. 'Tis by my most favorite author - Cameron Dokey; "The Storyteller's Daughter." The world ain't mine. Gah. I turned 20 last Saturday. 20! I am OLD! (starts bawling) I was supposed to upload this at my birthday but my pc decided to turn against me. Gah.

Uh oh. Trouble…

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 18: _Quatre Pulls A Thread_

The king and his mate returned to the palace to find it in pandemonium.

When night came and his brother didn't summon him, visions of his brother's downfall sprang like wildfire in young Quatre's mind. The imagination of youth fueled his sudden panic. Chief among these thoughts was the fear that King Heero had listened to the whispered rumors that Duo was practicing the dark arts, and the only way left to prove him a proper king still was to put his mate to death.

Despite the fear and anxiety swirling through him like sands in a desert storm, Quatre knew better than to allay his fears to his father. For the vizier had time and again counseled his youngest son to keep his patience. To trust not only Duo, but Heero as well. But even though he mastered his limbs to obey, his heart would not heed these warnings for much longer. For, to him, as long as the king holds Duo's life in his hands, he is not someone whom they could safely trust.

So he didn't approach his father with his fears, and even if he had, he would not have found him. For Omar was still off in the fool's errand Heero had given him just that morning. And so it came about that the vizier could not impede what was to come.

Instead, he confided to Trowa, the only person other than his brother and father he had come to trust. In the time when he had been welcomed into the vizier's family, he and Quatre had spent much time together, and he had come to love Trowa well. For the vizier had not treated him as a servant, but rather like the son of a dear old friend.

Spurred by Trowa, they headed to the king's rooms, unsummoned. They were unsure if they would be let in, for to go into the king's private chambers when he didid not call for you is simply unheard of. But Quatre's fear for his brother overrode the fear for his life. He would do anything it took to make certain that Duo was safe from harm.

Along the palace corridors they walked, hearts beating loud enough that once could swear they heard the other's, pulses racing, though each for a different cause. For courage, Quatre clasped Trowa's hand. What ran through his mind as he walked beside Quatre, Trowa never spoke to another soul, but this much I will caution you: Not merely by what happens next, but by all his actions may you judge him when this tale has spun.

Thus, Quatre and Trowa approached the king's quarters, and to their heart's delight, were admitted inside. For even though they weren't summoned, none thought their presence strange. After all, had they not been called for for many nights now?

But upon entering the room and finding it empty, it seemed to Quatre that all his fears have been set into stone. Unable to bear the overwhelming emotions surging through him, he broke down. His agonizing sobs brought first the guards, and then the chamberlain racing into the room.

Upon realizing that the king was not where he was believed to be, he raised the alarm. Heartbeats passed, then suddenly, all was as frenzied as a sandstorm. And in that growing maelstrom, only Trowa kept his head. He sent a message to his brothers of just one word, and that word was: "Now."

And then into the heart of this madness entered Heero and Duo.

Upon seeing his brother entering the room with the king's arm around his shoulders, Quatre gave a great cry and launched himself into Duo's arms. Duo tried to soothe him to no avail. It was too much. Quatre could not be calmed.

"Where have you been? I went to find you, but you were not here! Where were you?" he cried, his alto voice shivering, his visage too heartrending to look at.

"Please be calm, little one!" Duo pleaded. "Hush now, my brother." To his surprise, Duo found himself reluctant to tell his brother and all who were present where he had gone. For this day was special – a gem that belonged to him and his spouse alone. "I was safe in the company of the king. I am well and back now, Quatre. That is all you need to know."

"Safe! You are with _him _and you tell me you are _safe_?" cried Quatre. "I know why you will not tell me. It is because you don't love me anymore!" Surprising words, but even in his anguish, Quatre sensed that his brother was keeping something to himself, and it wounded both his heart and his pride. They have never kept secrets from each other. Until now.

"That is nonsense, little one," Heero cut in, voice calm and strangely soothing. He moved back to his place beside Duo, stilling his arm which was instinctively setting about Duo's shoulders. "Your brother loves you well, Quatre. I am sorry if you feared for his safety. But know that I would not let any harm befall him."

Quatre gave a strange laugh, his voice choked and desperate. He twisted in his brother's arms, facing Heero.

"How could you say that?" he cried. "When every day you hold the threat of death against his throat? You can end his life whenever you wish! It is being married to you that does him harm!"

"Quatre!" Duo exclaimed, appalled.

At the shock and dismay he heard in his brother's voice, Quatre lost himself completely and spoke things that he should have kept locked close in his heart.

"I did what you asked of me, brother!" he sobbed. "I begged with you not to do this, but you would not listen. Not to me or to Chichiue. And now you love the king better, and it is not fair! I wish I had never asked for a story at all! I helped you, yet you betrayed me. It would have been better if you had died!"

Quatre's words brought a terrible silence. In it, all eyes turned to the silent king. Though he could see none of this, Duo understood at once, for he felt a hand as cold as ice clamp around his heart.

_This is as I feared, _he thought. _He will look at me and see the face of deception. I have tried, and yet I fail. Now, we will both lose all._

"What does your brother mean?" the king asked, voice deceptively soft. "Explain his words to me, Duo."

At the coldness in his voice, Quatre's tears froze upon his cheeks, and he realized the harm that he had caused. He made a strangled sound.

"Silence!" said Heero. "I will hear none save Duo's voice. Answer me. _What have you done_?"

And Duo pulled in a breath and answered calmly. "What I thought I must. No less. No more."

"That is no answer, and you know it!" exploded Heero. "Always you speak in riddles. But you will answer me truly right this instant, or I swear before these others that I will slay you here and now."

In the silence that fell across the room, the only sound that could be heard were Quatre's heartbreaking sobs.

"Why don't you speak, Duo?" Heero demanded, eyes blazing. "Can it be that you have nothing to tell me? Very well. Since you have no tale for me, I will tell you one:

"Once upon a time, a _commoner _had the opportunity to wed a king, though he knew that in doing so, he must die. But then he devised a most clever ruse: To save his life, he began to tell the king a story that went on and on. In this he had the help of his brother. And also, I think, his father, for the family was always a close one.

"But now we come to the tale's great mystery," Heero continued, his voice like the crack of a whip. "How long might such a tale have lasted, Duo? Long enough for the man to plot against his consort? To betray him and find another to sit upon his throne, or even for he himself to wear the crown?"

"No," Duo said. "No, Heero." At his words, a single tear escaped from the split in his breaking heart. In silence, it rolled down his cheek.

"Your tears do not move me," said Heero. "I am not so weak. Tears are the weapons of the pathetic. I had thought better of you, Duo."

"Think of me what you will," he said. "Indeed, I cannot stop you."

"Do you deny that you have done these things?" Heero asked, voice growing in intensity. "Did you not plan to so captivate me with your stories that I would long to spare your life?"

"I did," said Duo.

Upon hearing these two words, Heero felt such anguish that he feared he would never recover from it. He would carry this pain all the days of his life.

"I will ask you this once, and then never again. _Why, Duo?_"

At this, a second tear flowed down Duo's cheek.

"Because I could see no other way. I needed time."

"Time for what?"

"To help you know your heart again," Duo said. "And mine. For only then could all be made right."

Heero felt his hands clench into fists, nails digging into callused flesh. He thought he felt pain, but the gut-wrenching intensity of his despair proved him otherwise. How close he had come, that very day, to proclaiming that a thing was growing for Duo in his heart and that it might be love! And all because of a clever lie, a trick. From start to finish, Duo had deceived him. There was nothing true in him at all.

"Do not dare to do so now," he said. At the sound of his voice, all within hearing felt the hair on the back of their necks stiffen and their limbs twitch as they fought back an instinct to run. "Don't dare to stand there and say you love me now. I am done playing your game. I see you for the deceiver you are. Take this man away. I never want to look on him again."

"Where – " The chamberlain's voice came out in a squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Where would you have us take him, my lord?"

And suddenly the king was weary – weary as he had never been before. For it seemed to him that now he faced the bleakest part of his vision. He was but one word away from spending the rest of his days without even the hope of love. For what hope would there be without Duo?

But before he could proclaim where he would send him – or rather, before his mind could even decide – a sound reached the ears of all in the chamber: swords clashing together, and voices crying out in alarm. Heero drew his great curved scimitar, but even as he did so the doors to the chamber were hurled back and Trowa's four older brothers rushed into the room, followed by their most trusted soldiers. Their defenses were low, for most of the guards were still searching for the errant royal couple. For many moments, the fighting was fierce as Heero's guards sought to protect him. They fought bravely, but the unholy lights of greed and revenge burned in Trowa's brothers' eyes. They killed the chamberlain where he stood before the king. Then with a great cry of triumph, the eldest brother raised high his sword and struck at Heero.

Heero parried the blow. Their swords met with a great clang, and the shock of the blow nearly shattered Heero's arm. He faltered back a step, then held his ground. He blocked and evaded the fatal blows to his body, but yet, despair coursed through his veins like molten lead, impeding his movements and slowing his reflexes.

"See!" the eldest brother taunted. "See how your _king _is hampered by his feelings for the sorcerer, for he protects him even now. Truly, his power must be great!"

And in this way did Heero realize that at the first sound of danger, he had leaped to protect Duo. So perfectly did his body obey his heart in this that the action was concluded before his mind could realize what he had done.

"Let us see if he can save you!" the eldest brother said. Once more, he raised his sword. But as he brought it down, a figure suddenly darted forward.

"_No!_" it cried and thrust its head straight into Heero's stomach, knocking him down. Instantly, Duo flung himself across his husband, and beside him was Quatre.

The eldest brother swore viciously when he saw what had been done. Much as he desired Heero's death, he was not yet so far gone that he would make war on unarmed men. That would be the act of a coward. So he turned his sword on Trowa, the one who had thwarted his attempt on the king.

"What do you think you're doing?" he bellowed.

"Leave him alone!" the second brother cried. "If not for him, we never would have come so far." And so they began to quarrel even in the midst of their triumph. But Heero did not notice this. Instead, he made an anguished sound. The reason Trowa's face had stayed in his mind was suddenly clear. Viewed alongside his brothers, his resemblance to them was plain. Though each was different, they were still as alike as coins struck from the same mold.

"Damn!" Heero exclaimed. "I see it now. I have harbored a snake."

"Truly," the second brother agreed with a sharp laugh. "A viper. But now that we are victorious, he need hide no longer."

He signaled his soldiers to move forward.

"Give up your sword," he said to Heero, "or I will make your consort and his brother suffer for it, though I keep them alive."

"Heero," Duo cried in a low voice. Not because he feared for himself, but because he knew what Heero would do, even though he did not love him. Beside him, Quatre began to weep once more, and at the sound, Trowa turned his head toward him as if pulled by a cord.

"Quatre."

"Do not speak to me, traitor!" Quatre cried. "For a snake speaks always with a forked tongue."

"I am waiting," the second brother called impatiently.

"So," said Heero. He got to his feet, the fire in his eyes dimming, and the others fell back. Hilt first, Heero presented his sword. No sooner had he done so than the second brother snatched it up and brought the hilt Heero had presented down upon his head. The king dropped to the floor like a stone. At this, the soldiers seized Duo and Quatre. Then the second brother knelt before the first and presented him with Heero's sword.

"The palace is ours," he said. And then he grinned. "What do you command shall be done with the prisoners, my lord?"

The first brother reached with greedy fingers for Heero's sword. "Let the _former _king be imprisoned in the darkest dungeon that may be found. No light. No air. No sound. Even if he lives, let him be in a place that would make him long for death."

"And the others?"

"Let the boy be kept fast in his own rooms. Take the sorcerer to the highest tower. Perchance he could magick himself free."

And in so commanding these harsh things, the eldest brother laughed. And all the new king had decreed was passed out by his subjects.

TBC

A/N:

Poor Quatre! Wouldn't you just like to cuddle him and soothe his fears away? (proceeds to do so and gets an EVIL look from Trowa)

What's up next chapter? Hmmmm…. Have I told you how much I love angst? (grins evilly) We're gonna see Treize soon enough. And possibly, his new love interest. Heh.


	20. Chapter 19

07/21/06; 11:30 p.m.

Standard disclaimers apply. Nothing here's mine. But Quatre is. (hides from a knife-wielding Trowa) 'Nyways, I am SO sorry for the slow update people! Gomen! But don't worry, the story is almost at its close.

Gah. Gomen! Real life (or laziness, whichever works) has been dragging me down… I've been on night duty for the past weeks (with three more weeks to go) so don't expect me to make new chapters yet. I've been assigned to the LR for PM duty a few weeks back too and I am really, really sorry for taking two months or so to update. Gah. Thanks to the reviewers of the last few chapters. I don't have the time right now to reply but I swear that I'll reply to any review for the last chapter (assuming I could actually finish this story). 'Nyways, on to the un-1x2 update…

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 19: _In Which Trowa Learns to See His Heart_

And now a time unfolds in which, forever after, the people of that land called The Days of Darkness. For though the sun beamed its fiercest rays upon them all, the light that Heero's father's teachings have shed seemed, with Heero's imprisonment, to flicker out like the last rays of sunset. It was hidden away in a place of great darkness, just as Heero was.

In those days, terror walked in the land, for the new king's spies where everywhere, and a man could have all he has dear taken for no more than an unclean thought. Yet how a thought could be known without it being spoken alive, no one has a clue. It seemed that it was only a thing that the king's spies knew alone.

Soon a gap between friends developed; between wife and husband, father and son. No one could trust anyone anymore, for they know not who to trust. And in this way, the great darkness traveled throughout the land and seeped into the people's very being, dwelling in every heart. And in this way, the people in Heero's land experienced how it is to live under a tyrant's thumb.

Barricades of stone went up around the city, sealing it from the outside, as well as the inside. For it came to the new king that it would not be long before Heero's brother, Treize, would turn up with an army to rescue his brother and for him to reclaim the throne. But days turned into nights, the tension increased, and still Treize did not come. Gradually the barricades crumbled due to unrepair, and the king and his brothers became complacent.

_See! How easy it was for us to overcome this worthless king Heero, _they said amongst themselves. _Our strength is too fearsome that none dare oppose us! _And so they stopped being vigilant, but the Days of Darkness drew longer.

Now that no one dared to contradict them, the brothers' true natures unveiled – the new king's most of all. For they could see that he could only put on the crown and royal robes, but do not posses the heart of a king. His subjects mattered as little to him as his servants – easily expendable. All that mattered was that he sat upon a throne.

Fights broke out within the city as the people grew more desperate and hungry. For here, unrecognized by the tyrant and his brothers, the true battle was being waged by Treize.

Knowing that it would take a substantial amount of time to raise an army big enough for a siege, Treize had cut off supplies to his brother's city at once. No caravans had arrived from Samarkand since the day Heero had been deposed. In this, though it grieved his heart to know the people would suffer, Treize not only followed his own counsel as well as his vizier, but that of Omar as well.

For the fool's errand Heero had given his vizier had turned out to serve both well. The vizier was not within the palace when it was attacked. Hearing what had happened from his informants, he made to Samarkand at once to join forces with Treize. This, his mind knew was the proper thing to do, though it cost his heart dearly, for he had to leave his beloved sons behind.

It was Treize's initial reaction to storm to his brother's aid, but his vizier calmed him down enough with his cool logic. Omar's opinion mattered to him too, for he had long been a mentor to him and his brother. His vizier, an eastern scholar with piercing, intelligent eyes, had conferred with Omar to know the best plan of action. Many nights after the sabotage of food, they discussed plans of rescue. Treize was restless too, worried about his brother's life. But one look into the ebony eyes of his vizier calmed him down enough for logic to overcome fear. Omar observed these happenings, and to his surprise, a smile formed upon his lips. Perhaps, hope would overcome the greatest fears after all.

When he learned of the people's desperate condition, the new king posted soldiers around the granaries and storehouses so they might be secured for his use alone. In this way did the people learn that as long as the king ate well, he did not care if they starve. In fury and desperation, they dared storm the palace itself. Their numbers were so great, they overcame the guards and streamed into the courtyard where once so many had gathered to see Duo's execution and had learned instead that he would keep his life.

But life was not a thing that was granted to the people who came that day. It was a day of death alone. For the king had his fiercest hired soldiers cut the people down until the stones of the courtyard ran with blood and were stained red from that day onward. At this, the riots ceased. None came to the palace, and the tyrant his brothers congratulated themselves yet again.

"See how the people fear and obey me," the new king cried. "Living under that bastard Heero's reign has made them weak and bold at the same time. They thought they could go against a king's authority. But I have proved them wrong!"

All it had taken was a firm hand and a river of blood. There would be no more uprisings.

Out of all the brothers, only Trowa had watched events unfold with horror in his heart. From his tower, Duo heard the cries of the people and despair filled his very being. He wept when he learned of the massacre, and it was said that if one could find a place in the courtyard that was not stained red, it would be a place where one of his tears fell.

But Heero knew nothing about the grizzly happenings, for he was kept imprisoned so deep within the bowels of the earth that he was completely in the dark and alone. Another man's will might have broken in a place such as this, but not the will of Heero. Day and night, though he could no longer tell light from dark, his will burned with its own intensity: the desire to win back his people and his throne. But even though he dared to dream these things, he did not know how to dream of Duo. And so, though his will burned bright, his heart still remained in the dark.

The days following the great massacre in the palace courtyard were the darkest days that land ever saw. On these days, or so it was said in later years, it seemed to many that the sun did not rise at all.

Then slowly, a change so unnoticeable occurred, one that was so gradual that it was barely noticeable. More and more, Trowa went out into the city. Dressed in the clothing he had worn while working in the kitchens, no one paid him any mind. Sometimes he spoke, but mostly, he listened. And so he began to learn that despite all the evil being presented to them, the people were beginning to take heart once more.

Food was beginning to trickle back into the city. For such was the cleverness of the two viziers and Treize: They had taken a great gamble, and they had won. Though their actions had first helped deprive the people of hope, they had also made it possible for the usurper to reveal the kind of king he truly was. Now that he had done so, there was room for hope to return with the help of Omar, and his vizier.

Trowa's brothers might have believed the people had ceased to riot because they had been overwhelmed by the terrible might of the tyrant. But Trowa knew that in this, his brothers were wrong. The people's bellies were beginning to be filled again with food supplied by Treize. But he claimed no credit for himself. Instead, every good deed accomplished by his will was done in the name of Heero. With every mouthful of food they ate, the people's love for Heero rekindled, and they felt a longing for him to rule once more with Duo at his side. For the way the kingdom had begun to prosper when he wed Heero was a thing each bite of food brought to mind.

When Trowa realized what was happening, a horrible battle began to rage within his heart. should he not tell his brothers what he knew? Surely they had first claim upon his loyalty, for they were his kinsmen, were they not?

But as he stared down at the palace courtyard, stained now and for all time with blood, Trowa felt his heart break apart and scatter like food for carrion birds. How could he tell his brothers what he knew when to do so would provoke the shedding of yet more blood? And there came into his mind thoughts which, once planted, could not be rooted out: His brother was no true king. In helping to place him upon the throne, Trowa had done a great wrong.

In that hour Trowa longed for Omar, for the vizier had always treated him kindly – not like a servant, but like a son. But he was far away in Samarkand with Treize. Kept away by the very acts that now brought Trowa such despair.

Then he thought of Omar's youngest son, and the grief threatened to drown him.

Finally, worn out and confused, Trowa made his way to his second brother's quarters. For he was the only one of his brothers in whom Trowa thought he might confide. But when he arrived there, he learned a bitter thing: His brothers were in conference without him.

And they plotted the death of Heero.

"We must delay no longer," the third brother said. "Every day we allow this fool Heero to live, he is a danger to us."

"We should have killed him at once!" the eldest, now the king, concurred. "I would have done it had Trowa not stopped me."

"Where is Trowa?" the fourth brother asked. "Why is he not present?"

"You know why he is not here," the second spoke up finally, and the sound of his voice was like an arrow in Trowa's heart. "He protected Heero. We can trust him no longer."

And in this way did Trowa learn that his struggles over whether to betray his brothers had been for nothing. He stayed long enough to overhear the plans they made, the likes of which made his blood run cold. Then swiftly he returned to his quarters and wrapped Helena's trunk up in a cloak. For he had taken it and kept it safe, his brothers not recognizing it for what it was.

He whispered an apology and a farewell to the one he loved above all, imprisoned in his own quarters, then took his swiftest horse from the stables. He lashed the trunk behind him, and set out with all speed for Samarkand, spurring his horse on with need and hope.

TBC 

------------------------

**A/N:**

Well, now you know who Treize's potential love interest is. Sorry if I disappointed some of you. I love 13x6, and I love a threesome better, but in this story, I favor the other pairing more so… besides, I have a penchant for reading 6x1 fics nowadays so…

'Nyways, I really am sorry for the long, long wait. We were assigned in the ER/OPD wards a few months ago and it was fun (a patient died on me though) and I got to see lots of lacerations and sutures (there was this guy who had his ingrown removed and I was like "Ooooh, so that's how they do it." but I'm not going into details for all you queasy people out there). We also passed through school nursing for two weeks and I'm having nightmares still. 7 year-olds are scary, when there are 52 of them and only 1 of you. Ugh.

Next chapter will be contain the final "battle," and who knows, it might be the last too. I thank all the people who have been with me this far and I graciously thank all your reviews, threats, and flames. (bows)


	21. Chapter 20

07/12/08; 10:35 PM

Oh. My. God. I have sorely neglected this fic for SO long! My behind was figuratively kicked when someone (you know who you are) recently PM'd me and told me quite nicely to get on with this fic. Thank you! I went over some of the latest chapters of this fic and I cringe at all the mistakes. I'm sorry about those, people. Could you maybe turn a blind eye on those glaring grammar mistakes? Thanks. I remember starting chapter 20 last year but couldn't find the copy anywhere. I didn't want to start from scratch though, so I looked for the file; who knew it was in a diskette, of all places. Good thing we still had a laptop with a diskette drive. Heh. Now, on to the next chapter. I hope everyone is still with me here.

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Shahrastini**

By _Ninetails_

Chapter 20: _The Eyes of the Heart_

But what, you wonder, in the Days Without Light, came to pass in the hearts of Heero and Duo? For they had parted in bitterness. In fear and in sorrow, their hearts still hidden each from the other. Yet the time was coming when all would depend on what their hearts might decide. Or had, perhaps, decided already, but had not yet recognized.

The day after Trowa had left the city, great trumpets sounded, the palace gates opened, and the new king's herald went forth. Throughout the city he passed crying the king's will, and it was this: The lord Duo was to undergo a trial. He was a sorcerer, and so must lose his life. But if he could perform one good deed before his death, he might save the life of his husband, Heero. In three days' time, the trial would take place. Once the sorcerer no longer lived among them, peace and prosperity would flow into the land once more.

All through that day, and in the days that followed, the herald pronounced the king's will throughout the city, returning to the palace only at the sinking of the sun.

The day before the trial was to take place, the second brother's curiosity got the better of him and he made the climb to Duo's tower. How had the sorcerer taken the news that this time he must surely die?

"I would make peace with the Light, if I were you, my lord," he sneered. "For it cannot be that you will live through the morrow."

Though he had shed tears over the fate of his husband, his people, and his kingdom, Duo let no tears fall now. For the others, his tears were all spent. And he had promised himself before he was bonded to Heero that regardless of the outcome, never would he weep for himself.

"What I have with the Light, is but for my own counsel," Duo replied. "I would look to your own soul, if I were you. It is your deeds that are black, not mine."

At this, the second brother became angry that he could not shake the sorcerer's composure, and he went back down.

Duo did not sleep that night. Sometimes he paced back and forth upon the balcony so that he might feel the wind upon his face. Sometimes he would sit on his bed, still as stone. And in those hours, the darkest that had come to him since Helena died, Duo waged his own battle: the one to see and understand his heart. For he did not want to leave the world without knowing himself. Did not want to perish knowing that he had been a coward while he lived. How could he face death unafraid if while he still breathed, he had feared to face himself?

In the still hour just before dawn, when all the world holds its breath, fearing that this may be the day when the sun fails in its promise to return once more, Duo grew so weary that he lay down upon the cold stones of the tower – just as Heero had done before him not so very long ago. And as he did, he relinquished his struggle, just as Heero had relinquished his heart. And as he did, a thing happened that Duo did not expect, for he saw what his heart contained for the very first time. And what he saw was this: He loved Heero – heart and body, mind and soul.

He did this knowing full well that Heero might not love him. For now he also understood a thing he had not before: The words the deceased queen had uttered before hear death had been a curse indeed, for they had spoken only that Heero must find someone who could know his heart truly and be unafraid to have that someone's heart known. Nothing had she said of love. But with her words she had placed the fear of love over Heero's head, even as she had kindled the desire for it in his heart. And in this she had shown that she knew her husband well. For he had come to fear nothing save the things she had planted within him: Not death or mischance, but betrayal and unrequited love.

When he understood this, Duo understood the time of his destiny had truly come. So he got up and washed his face, tidied his garments as best he could, and went to stand once more upon the balcony, his blind eyes toward where the sun would come out. For he did not doubt that it would reappear.

And so the second brother found him, will set, demeanor calm. And thus it was the second brother's heart that quailed as he led him down the long stairs to the great audience hall. His heart, not Duo's. All the way, the second brother searched his mind to find the flaw in the plans that had been laid, but could discover none. But neither could he shake the feeling that with every step he took, events were slipping by him like the current of a river, moving faster and faster until they were beyond his control.

"Where do you take me?" asked Duo.

"To the great audience hall," the second brother answered. And as he spoke, they arrived, the doors were thrown open, and they passed inside. Down the long length of the hall they walked, through a room thronged with as many people as had witnessed Duo's marriage to Heero.

Long had the brothers argued over this, but in the end, the king's will had won. For he wanted many eyes to see what was about to take place, to witness Duo condemn himself and Heero. In this way he hoped report might make him blameless in their deaths and proclaim this fact both far and wide. Both common people and courtiers had the king brought together so that all might perceive how great his power was.

"Let the prisoners be brought forth," he commanded when Duo had been led in and made to kneel before the throne.

At this, a great gong sounded, and all those who had been imprisoned since the king had come to power were led forth, including Heero. But he had been kept in so dark and terrible a place that none who looked upon the prisoners recognized Heero for who he was. At the sight of those who had been imprisoned, a murmur swelled up from among the ranks of the observers in the hall, for many of the prisoners stumbled, as if their limbs had lost the sense of movement. Matted, filthy hair hung down over their faces, masking their features. At the early morning light streaming into the hall, some cried out and covered their eyes. Much as they longed to see the sun, they could not do it. They had been kept in the dark too long.

The king waited until the prisoners had halted and the hall had grown silent before he spoke once more.

"Look well on what befalls all who would stand against me," he said in mighty tones. "Lest their fate be yours. Let the lord Duo rise and stand before the prisoners."

At this, another murmur of wonder arose from the prisoners themselves, for none knew why they had been brought up, let alone that their fate might involve Duo. The mention of his name provoked such turmoil in Heero's chest that he took his hands down from his face so that he might see Duo, though his eyes could hardly bear the light.

"Hear now the trial that you must face," the usurper told Duo. "It has come to our ears that you are steeped in magic, and I will not suffer a sorcerer to live among us. For your life, there can be no reprieve. Whatever follows, you must die. But I will give you a chance to do a great good before you breathe no more."

Here he paused. All knew this much already, except for the prisoners, who were hearing it for the very first time.

"If, neither by word nor touch nor any other sign, you can find your husband among these prisoners, I will spare his life, though he must live out the remainder of his days in exile."

At this, many assembled within the hall cried out in joy. But Duo was not among them. _Liar!_ he thought, for since coming into the chamber, he had discovered an amazing thing: Having learned to see his own heart truly, he could now see other men's as well. And so he saw the blackness of the usurper's heart and knew he would not keep his word.

_I am like the water bearer's daughter,_ Duo thought. And as he realized this, he almost laughed aloud. Had not the water bearer's daughter triumphed in the end, though she had faced an impossible trial? _I thought the story was for Heero. But now, I see that I was wrong. It was for me, that I might remember to have both purity of the heart, and strength of the mind._

"What say you, _my lord_?" the king asked. "Are you content to undergo this trial?"

"No, I am not content," Duo answered. "For who can be content to undergo a tyrant's trial? But I will submit, for I greatly desire to spare my husband's life."

"You must find him first," the king reminded him. "Let us see what your blind eyes can do." And then he laughed, and the sound was cruel.

So Duo began his trial. Three times he paced before the line of prisoners seeking to know what was in each man's heart. In this way he saw much that gave him hope. In only one heart did he find a thing that brought him grief. And so at last, his footsteps halted before the man who stood in the very center, the others stretching around beyond him in equal measure on both sides. Even so was Heero still balanced between light and dark.

"This man is Heero, my husband, and true king of this land," he said, and his voice was the only sound in the great hall. Tears began to stream down his face, unchecked.

Duo now stood, facing his husband, his love. "Let your husband now break the curse your queen laid upon you in bitterness and anger," he went on. "I have seen your heart, and I know it does not love me. But I will do what I must and so be unafraid to have my own heart known. Look upon me then, and see what my heart holds for you. Only then will the curse be broken."

At these words, Heero began to tremble, a thing that caused him shame, for he did not yet see this for what it was: Hope, rising up. His heart, yearning to break free.

"I am afraid," he said in a voice for Duo's ears only. "I am afraid to look, Duo."

"And I am afraid to let you see," Duo answered, his voice low. "But if you don't, then she has won, and her brothers with her. Is that what you want? Remember the tale I told you when the sun shone upon us, and take heart."

At this, Heero became steadier, for he thought he caught a glimpse of the direction that Duo was going.

"I will," he said. And he did a thing that only Duo understood. He closed his eyes. For suddenly he remembered the way in which the water bearer's daughter had given herself over to the sea to find her treasure. Even so, he gave himself over to thoughts of Duo. With his eyes closed, he could no longer see Duo as he stood before him. And so Heero looked to find Duo within himself.

A thousand images seemed to fill him, all of them dazzling. There was no deceit or darkness in Duo. He was filled with light. Duo could not have betrayed him as he had feared. And so realizing, Heero suddenly perceived the thing that he had hidden from himself for so long: his heart. For it was from this place that all his beautiful visions came. It was no longer stone, but flesh and blood. And realizing this, he was no longer afraid to gaze into the heart of Duo. He opened his eyes. Straight into Duo's heart, he looked. And there he found himself. For he dwelt in Duo's heart as Duo did in his.

But even as joy filled him like clear water poured into a crystal flask, Heero knew a great fear also. For he remembered Duo's words. He had looked into Heero's heart but not found love. And so he reached for Duo, taking his hands in his, not noticing the way the people all around them cried out.

"You think you have seen my heart, but that cannot be, for I have only just discovered what it holds. Look again, Duo. Then tell me what you see."

And Duo looked, and answered, "Love."

At this, a great ray of sun burst into the hall and illuminated his face. Duo cried out and covered his eyes. Suddenly realizing what had happened, Heero gasped and took Duo into his arms. Only then did he perceive that a great commotion raged all about them.

"Seize them!" the usurper was shouting from his throne. "They have broken the rules of the trial! Neither by word nor touch could Duo find out his husband. Let them be seized and put to death at once!"

But now a thing happened that none expected. Most of the rest of the prisoners cast off their filthy robes to reveal themselves ready for battle, for they were armed and armoured. Swiftly, they formed a protective circle around Heero and Duo.

"Not while I still live," one said.

And from the ranks of the observers in the hall a voice called out, "See! It is Treize!"

At this, a great cry of joy went up from the people, common folk and courtiers alike. For they perceived that Treize had come to his brother's aid at last, and if he prevailed, all might be free of the tyrant's yoke.

Still, things might have gone ill, for the hall was filled with many soldiers who were even now drawing their swords. But before blood could be shed, Heero himself stepped forward.

"Hear me!" he said in a great ringing voice, and at the sound of it, the soldiers stayed their swords. "A great choice is in your hands," Heero said. "By your deeds will the heart of our nation arise once more or fall.

"Think! Look into your hearts as I have looked into mine. Will you live in darkness or in light? For which you will have depends on what is in your hearts as much as what is in the heart of the one who sits upon the throne. But this, I think you know already. Choose swiftly, then, strike hard, and make every stroke count."

For a moment nothing happened, and it seemed to Duo that the entire hall was filled with figures made of stone. The leader of the soldiers stepped forward just as the usurper himself unsheathed his sword.

"The first one of you to make a move toward him in friendship, I will slay myself."

_"No!"_

At the sound of Duo's voice, all turned to him in astonishment. The protective ring around him parted, and he moved to stand beside Heero.

"Let no blood be shed," he entreated, amethyst eyes flashing. "For I can see into the hearts of all here as well as I can see into my own. Therefore I say to the usurper: It will do no good to fight, for you can never win. The hearts of the people belong to King Heero."

At this, a great shout went up: "Heero! King Heero!"

But the usurper was so far gone, no words of reason could reach him. "Brothers! To me!" he cried. Not one of them moved, for those loyal to Treize had them in their power. And so it was Trowa who stepped forward, all alone. It had been his voice that first proclaimed Treize's presence. It had been his plan that had smuggled Treize, his vizier, Omar, and those whom they most trusted into the palace to aid Heero. For he had seen that a small force might prevail where a larger one would not.

"I am your brother," said Trowa. "Though I do not think you called to me. Hear now what I proclaim to all. I will serve you no longer. Instead I offer my sword to King Heero. The true king and his family, now and forever will I serve, and may my deeds wash away the dishonour that has stained our house."

"Traitor!" the usurper shouted. But when he would have sprung upon Trowa, Treize stepped forward and struck him down, placing his naked sword across his throat.

"Say what you wish, and I shall make it happen," he told Trowa. "I will be your brother, if you wish his life."

"No, do not kill him," Trowa said. "For I think it will be worse for him if he stays alive. His own greed and jealousy will eat him up. But gladly will I take you for my brother, for these others I here disown."

"Then you must take me for a brother also," said Heero. At this, Trowa knelt at Heero's feet and wept, even as soldiers hailed his former brothers away.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

"There is nothing to forgive," Heero said just as softly. "For it is already done. Come now, help to prepare our victory celebration. You know your way about the kitchens, I think?"

Trowa laughed as he rose to his feet. "I do. But first let us see about a bath for you, my lord."

And in this way were Heero and Duo united in truest love and Heero restored to his throne. And all without a single drop of blood being spilled upon that day, for bloodshed there had been enough.

TBC?

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**A/N:**

Gah, I'm really sorry for taking too long to update. Senior year had been hectic and hellish, and graduating my way out of it was a reprieve. Plus I had two months of review classes and the Board exam to deal with so I was understandably preoccupied. I am now a bum while waiting for the NLE results to come up. Please pray for me, if that's what you believe in, or wish me luck or something. I've gained a LOT of weight due to compulsive eating. Gah, stress is a killer.

Thank you SO much for the reviews. I am astounded! Sorry if I couldn't reply to all of you, though.

Btw, am I the only one discomfited by Duo's reference to Heero as his _husband_? And their marriage? And what about an heir?! Oh my…

For those of you reading Secret Ball, I'm working on it! Really! Sometimes… Gah. Please don't kill me?


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